Zexion Drew and the Smalltown Blues
by becoafamu
Summary: AU. Librarian Zexion Drew seizes the opportunity presented by an untimely death to jumpstart his long-cherished dream of becoming a famous investigator, and also maybe collect a few ideas for his novel. Zemyx
1. The Funeral

_October 11._

_A body lies cold in the quiet village of Twilight Town: Aerith Gainsborough, age 26, cause of death unknown. She had barely begun to live. I will get to the bottom of this horrific injustice._

Satisfied by the vague-yet-confident tone of his first journal entry, Zexion Drew snapped the tiny book shut and glared suspiciously around at the rest of the mourners. The entire town was present at the memorial service for one Aerith Gainsborough, deceased, which meant almost certainly that the murderer was among them, and on top of that had probably only showed up to get the free jell-o salad, the soulless bastard. Zexion stabbed at his own jell-o salad with his fork, and swallowed a chunk without even bothering to chew. Yes, this would be the first case of Zexion Drew, freelance detective, and then they'd see what he was truly capable of. He'd show them all!

For you see, Zexion Drew was not actually a detective. He was the town's librarian. On top of that, the rest of the townsfolk had decided that reading all of those books was giving him funny ideas. If you asked a random person on the street, say, how about that Mr. Drew, they'd pull you aside so no one would hear and say, oh, he's mad, you know, quite mad. As such, he had never told anyone of his secret ambition: to be a famous investigator. So when he'd heard that a death under mysterious circumstances had occurred in the sleepy town of Twilight, he'd immediately skulked out of his musty lair, pen and paper in hand, prepared to begin collecting evidence. Now he stood in a low-traffic corner of Xaldin Fu's funeral home, taking frantic notes on the relative evidence against each of his fellow Twilight citizens. Since he fancied himself an invisible and objective observer, he chose to ignore the confused glances he was getting from the people at the dessert table.

First his eyes fell on Cloud Strife, the deceased woman's would-be fiancée. He didn't appear to have shed a single tear the entire night- that made him an immediate suspect. Zexion's fanciful mind filled with potential motives- a simple disagreement, plain old wedding cold feet, or something worse? As far as anyone knew, Aerith Gainsborough had no living family, so a familial dispute was out of the question.

Cloud was standing rather close to his good friend, Leon Leonhart, who was using his other arm to comfort his wife of two years, Tifa Lockhart. Leon's unfortunate moniker had come about as a well-intentioned mishap of feminism. Their original names had been Leon Hart and Tifa Leonlock, and they'd been combined when they got married in the least good way possible. Leon absolutely hated when people commented on his name- in fact, it was the only thing that Zexion had ever seen make him angry. _Angry enough to kill? _He tapped his pen pensively against his lower lip, and made a quick note in his book. He also circled "mishap of feminism."

Next, he observed the younger crowd of Twilight Town, gathered in a corner to avoid the solemnity of the older townsfolk. He began with Xaldin's daughter, Yuffie Fu, heiress to the Fu Funeral Homes fortune. Now, if _she'd _been murdered, he would have had a motive. He sighed for the lost opportunity. In any case, she and her sort-of friends Hayner Bodeen, Eugene Pence, and Olette Mae Olsen seemed far too young to be murderers, but Zexion couldn't discount manslaughter- an innocent childhood prank gone horribly wrong? Or maybe the Fu family was indebted to the Chinese mafia and needed to drum up business by any means necessary? Ooo, he liked that. He could use that in his novel.

Zexion skipped over Demyx Dolor, the town's young but capable schoolteacher, since he was clearly just too beautiful to be a killer. He could pump Demyx for information _all_ day long. Ahem.

The wealthiest family in town, the Woodses, lived in a rumored-to-be-haunted (but that was another mystery for another day) mansion in a forest a few miles outside of town. Xemnas Woods, the head of household, owned the most lucrative bag-carting business in Twilight Town. His son Roxas Woods and Roxas's wife Naminé Woods, poised to inherit Bag-o-Stuff Incorporated, also lived in the mansion, and the three barely ventured into town. In fact, Zexion was surprised to see them here, at the funeral. Their ethnic manservant, Axel del Fuego, was also present, standing in a corner similar to Zexion's own, carrying Naminé's purse and looking less than comfortable about it. They certainly had the resources and connections to get the job done. The four of them almost never deigned to grace the town with their physical presence- had they come here today to gloat over a job well done?

By contrast, the poorest person in Twilight Town, Luxord, just Luxord, had also shown up, mainly to eat the free food. He lived in the tunnels beneath the railroad tracks and liked to talk to himself, spawning the many rumors that they, too, were haunted. Luxord was notorious for being willing to bet on literally anything, from "what day the baby will come" to "which caterpillar will climb up my leg faster" to "who will have to pee first." Hence, of course, the having no money. Had his abject poverty driven him to desperate measures? Sure, the body didn't _look _like it had been violently mugged, but there were plenty of ways to kill without leaving marks. Plenty. Zexion had both read and written about them.

Vexen Hicks, the town doctor, was shaking hands with Xemnas Woods. Zexion's eyes narrowed and he began writing more quickly. He had learned to never, ever trust a suck-up. And besides, Vexen had prepared the body for the funeral service and would be performing the autopsy, so he had plenty of opportunities to hide evidence. Zexion drew a star next to his name, and a quick arrow pointing him towards the top of the list. Couldn't be too careful with your records, he always said. He glanced around the room and focused on young Riku Spears, rumored gang member and-

"Zexion? Dude, what the hell are you doing?" Zexion cursed himself at having been so easily foiled by Xigbar Casey, the war-torn, grizzled, actual town sheriff. As if he could ever understand. As if he would ever dedicate himself to law enforcement with the same vim and vigor that Zexion himself had! But all that came out was:

"Eeehm… nothing, sir." Zexion hated his own simpering voice.

"Good. Stay out of trouble." Xigbar left Zexion alone in his corner, but Zexion could see the assistant sheriff, Seifer Almasy, sneering at him from across the noodle casserole. Someone as surly as Xigbar could definitely be a murderer, and he already had built-in accomplice. Xigbar had definitely gotten used to killing in the war, and the whole eye-patch thing definitely made him look like the type to abuse his position to kill people for fun, and Seifer was just a douche. Zexion moved them to the top of the list, too, and planned to make a re-note of them on his list of People Who Have Wronged Me, which unsurprisingly was almost exactly the same as the list he was making right now.

Anyway, to escape the sheriff's watchful eye, Zexion crawled underneath one of the buffet tables and set himself up to peek at everyone's legs through a crack in the plastic tablecloths. With renewed purpose, he focused on Riku Spears's bright blue sneakers, and continued his notes on rumored gang membership. He had no evidence of any gang activity in Twilight Town, but Riku was a big-city outsider, and those types couldn't be trusted, not at all.

Lexaeus Overfoot, a big hulking lump of a man, was the town's mayor, elected mainly because he was the only person in the town with whom no one had had a previous disagreement. Generally, Lexaeus seemed to be more of a gentle giant, soft-spoken and, well, practically not speaking at all, but Zexion could leave no stone unturned in this hunt. The political climate in Twilight Town was fierce- there was always the possibility that Lexaeus had murdered Aerith Gainsborough to stir up controversy and frighten the townspeople into following him blindly during an election season. Politics could be brutal. _Deadly, _even.

Marluxia McCoy and Larxene Carlyle were a pair of small-scale florists and pig farmers who lived on the outskirts of town. During her tragically too-short life, Aerith Gainsborough had often bought flowers from them, and they were going to be the suppliers for the Strife-Gainsborough wedding. Wait. That would give them a strong incentive _not _to murder the victim. Well, in any case, no one could be trusted. Besides, they frequently hosted a drifting ex-felon by the name of Saix, just Saix, who was also mysteriously present at the memorial service, probably also for the free food. Maybe Saix had obtained a taste for blood during his years behind bars, and after years of desperate waiting, had finally found a way to sate it here in Twilight Town.

And finally, Sora and Kairi Nichols, a young married couple who seemed just a little _too _perfect and happy. Happiness like that had no place in Twilight Town, and Zexion flinched away from it like a vampire hiding from sunlight. His detective senses were tingling- they had to be hiding something, something dark and broody.

_26 suspects. One hiding a dark and murderous secret. And I, Zexion Drew, detective, will find out the secret. I will stop at nothing- I will hide in the shadows, I will follow every clue, I will seek out information like a dog seeks out dog biscuits. I, Zexion, will solve the mystery of who killed Aerith Gainsborough._

He triumphantly snapped his journal closed and stood up. Unfortunately, he had forgotten that he was hiding underneath a table, and bumped his head rather hard, causing a worried commotion above him. He decided it would be better to wait it out, and stayed in his hiding spot a few more hours, listening frantically for clues.

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	2. Demyx Dolor

Zexion Drew had always found books vastly preferable to people. They were quiet, and they smelled nice, and they always had something interesting to say. Plus, then when you were done with them, you could put them away on a shelf, and they'd just wait there for you until you needed them again. The same had of course been said about cars, guitars, cats, dogs, and coffee, and normally Zexion hated clichés, but he would make an exception for books. Marvelous things, books.

But today, though the siren's song of the Dewey Decimal System called out to him temptingly from the racks and shelves, Zexion's books would have to just sit tight and chill out. For Zexion Drew had a mystery to solve. And before that, Demyx Dolor was coming to his library.

The local school was too poor to have its own library, so Demyx had long ago struck up a deal with him to walk his middle schoolers from across the street to read in Zexion's public one. Normally Zexion hated those meddling kids, but he would make an exception to get to see Demyx. And since he almost never left the library and his well-kept little house, these school excursions were the only chance Zexion got to talk to him. His heart went all a-flutter at the prospect. He flipped his Mystery journal closed, and pulled out his Novel journal, working title _A Forbidden Love_, but he was open to suggestions.

_Detective Zach Tuesday slammed the door, tearing off his trench coat and collapsing exhaustedly into his favorite chair. He rubbed his temples, desperate for a stiff glass of scotch. The Masked Killer had evaded him once again. His only hope was that the murderer wouldn't kill another helpless blind child before he could find another clue. He was so absorbed within his thoughts that he didn't hear the door creak open._

"_Zach. I've been waiting for you. Why were you out so late?" His assistant, Dom Davis, slipped up behind him. "You're so tense," he murmured, reaching out to caress Zach's shoulders._

"_Dom," Zach groaned. "If I've told you once, I've told you a hundred times- this can't work. We work together."_

"_Can't you forget about work, just for one night?" Dom whispered, his breath hot in Zach's dark hair. Strawberries- he smelled like strawberries. Zach leaned back into the touch, sighing happily, and Dom began to trail soft kisses down his neck. The warmth from the quick touches fluttered gently down his spine and towards a more sensitive area, the heat building as he-_

"Hiya, Zexy!" Zexion slammed his magnum opus shut and shoved it into hiding so quickly, he almost set his desk on fire, and it was a good thing he didn't, because his face was more than hot enough for both himself and his furniture. Little Hayner Bodeen noticed the blush and sniggered, and Zexion shot him what he considered to be his best Library Nazi glare. Completely oblivious to the nonverbal exchange between his friend and his students, Demyx went right on talking.

"Ok. Y'all know what to do, and where the books on the Civil War are at, so get to it," he ordered. His four students- only Yuffie Fu, Hayner Bodeen, Eugene Pence, and Olette Mae Olsen, for there weren't very many children in the town, and the ones they did have tended to take off as soon as they could walk- set off towards the back of the library, where the history section was. Much to Zexion's delight, Demyx stayed behind, apparently to talk to _him_, assuming there wasn't a more interesting person behind him, that is. While Demyx wasn't looking, he glanced over his shoulder to check.

Zexion Drew was in love with Demyx Dolor, because the latter was everything that the former was not. While Zexion was naught but an awkward social recluse who dreamed of becoming a famous detective, Demyx was beautiful and outgoing and sunny and wonderful. Zexion could write and had written poetry about those shiny blue eyeballs and that breathtaking mullet, short tips extending into flowing blonde hair that rested lightly on his shoulders. What Zexion wouldn't give just to touch that mullet. He'd tried once, ready to play it off as an oh-I-was-trying-to-grab-the-stapler accident, but lost his nerve at the last moment. He regretted his missed opportunity at the very least once per day.

"I promise they'll be good this time," Demyx was telling him, in his drawling, melodic accent. "We had a lil' chat about bothering the Schemer before we came over here, so everything should be ok." The Cloaked Schemer was Zexion's library cat, for he was a firm believer in both shop cats and overdramatic cat names. But Zexion was too enthralled by the way Demyx went out of his way to pronounce his g's at the end of words to care much for his poor cat's well-being in the face of the gaggle of library hooligans. He wasn't that worried about her, anyway- the Schemer could handle herself just fine.

"So, how've you been? I ain't seen you in forever, it seems like." Demyx leaned onto Zexion's desk, cocking his head to one side inquisitively and resting his cheek on his palm in a way that Zexion found completely irresistible.

"I saw you at Aerith's funeral yesterday," Zexion answered. Oh, great, talk about dead people. Way to woo the man of your dreams. Wait, did anyone use the word 'woo' unironically anymore? He'd have to grab a book and look that up.

"Oh, yeah. Oh, I just can't believe she's _gone_." Demyx's voice lifted oh-so-slightly into a wail. "She was so happy just last week, y'know?" Zexion felt very guilty indeed for making his love sad, and wished he could kiss away the pain, or maybe try one of the many other things he'd read about in all of the cheesy romance novels that he'd never admit to reading.

"I'm sorry," was all he said.

"It's all just so _sad. _She was so _young. _And about to get married, too," Demyx sighed, his expression turning dreamy on the word 'married.' Zexion's heart sank. If Demyx had his own heart set on a big Southern wedding, then… well, he'd just cross that bridge if he ever got to it. Keep the horse in front of the cart, Zexion Drew. He's got to look at you twice, first, after all.

"Were y'all close?" Demyx asked curiously.

"Uh. What?"

"You and Aerith. It's just, you look so sad." Zexion blinked. He looked sad? Demyx noticed that he looked sad? Well, that was more than enough to cheer him up right quick.

"No, not really. It's just… sad, like you said." Zexion had once read that well-read people make great conversationalists. That person was lying. Though, looking at Demyx's shiny blue eyeballs, he suddenly got an idea. Demyx talked to _everyone- _he might be able to give Zexion some information. He had not, after all, forgotten his mission to discover the circumstances of Aerith Gainsborough's death, thus proving himself as a detective in the eyes of the town.

"Demyx?"

"Hmm?" Demyx turned back from where he had been playing with the leaves on one of Zexion's well-kept library plants.

"Does… does anyone know how she died?" He hoped his question didn't come across as far too blunt or insensitive. He wasn't the best judge of that sort of thing. Luckily, Demyx didn't get offended, and instead responded with a light shrug.

"Nope. Dr. Hicks is doing an autopsy and everything, though. Thinks it's better if we know what did it." Demyx once again sighed dramatically. "Poor Cloud. He must be taking this so hard." Cloud. The prime suspect. Women were, after all, statistically most likely to be murdered by their partners, or so he'd read in some book once. He would have to be the first person Zexion would investigate.

"Yeah," was all he said.

For the rest of the class, Zexion spent his time frantically trying to look busy so as not to be trapped into awkward conversation with his crush. Considering that he'd spent the morning frantically preparing the library for Demyx's class, there wasn't really anything for him to do, so he ended up stamping the same set of books six times and washing the windows twice. He'd do it all again tomorrow, of course- such was life in the library. The Cloaked Schemer shed enough that there was always vacuuming to be done, and he was always changing the way he organized the books, like when he redid the encyclopedias to spell words. Sometimes he'd arrange a section backwards or by color, just to throw people off. And then he'd lurk in the stacks and watch the reactions and laugh, and laugh, on the inside of course, since it was a library, but he was afraid that if he told anyone they'd find him terribly dorky. Because, of course, he was.

"You washing the windows _again_?" Zexion jumped a little more than he'd care to admit. Demyx had curled up in a chair with a trashy tabloid magazine, and Zexion had had no idea that his friend had been watching him. He was more focused on keeping up the movements and faux-business, to get rid of all the twitchy nervous energy. God, he had it bad.

"Uh. Fingerprints," he said lamely. Demyx smiled and shook his head.

"Zexy, you work too hard." A faint blush crept up Zexion's cheeks. Then, the moment was stopped, dropped, and rolled by a sudden shriek from the corner where the students were working.

"MISTER DOLOR! THIS DUMB CAT PUKED ON ME!"

"WELL, DID Y'ALL SHAKE HER AGAIN?" Demyx shouted back, not even bothering to get up from his chair. There was no response. He offered Zexion a deeply apologetic glance for both the cat shaking and the shouting in the library, but all Zexion could do was smile, a tiny turn-up of the lips that separated angry from amused. Demyx rolled his eyes and groaned, the deep and long-suffering groan of a professional molder of young minds.

"Y'all got any paper towels?"

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Just a little chapter to properly introduce Demyx Dolor. Never fear, we shall soon leap into Zexion Drew's comical investigative misadventures. ;)

Review plz?


	3. Strife Delivery Services

_October 13._

_Today, I infiltrate Strife Delivery Services. If this is my last journal entry, please give the Cloaked Schemer to Demyx Dolor. I think she likes him._

Zexion peeked across the street at the worn sign that announced the presence of Cloud Strife's reasonably prosperous local business. Strife Delivery Services was Twilight Town's number one shop of choice for the movement of things from one place to another. They might have done storage or something too, Zexion couldn't really remember. In any case, today, Zexion Drew was going undercover as a man who needed a delivery. His cover story was that he was a local librarian who needed a box of books moved from his house to the library. Cloud was sure to fall for it, because it was true, and that made it exceedingly clever. With a deep breath, Zexion stepped forward and across the road, pushing open the door and almost shrieking with fright when the obnoxiously loud bell rang. Almost.

Immediately, he noticed that there was no shop cat. That was the first strike against Cloud. Besides the conspicuous lack of cat, however, the store was pretty ordinary. One wall had some chairs, the other had some cardboard boxes that were for sale, and at the back of the store was a counter with a tiny sign that said "Ring Bell For Service." Zexion thought that was rather silly, since the door had a bell, too, but hey, it wasn't his store. He rang the bell.

"Coming," came a voice from deep in the bowels of the shop. Finally, Cloud emerged, carrying a heavy-looking box of something-or-other that he deposited on the counter, dusting off his hands. He was wearing a sleeveless top that flatteringly showed off his arms, which were very muscley, indeed. Zexion, however, did not allow himself to appreciate them, because that would be cheating on Demyx Dolor, mentally, or something. Plus, he couldn't be sure, of course, but he suspected that he was pretty unsubtle when he was checking someone out.

"Hello, Cloud," Zexion said.

"Hi, Zexion. What can I do for you?" Zexion allowed his eyes to travel across the box. Any item in the store was a potential clue, after all. This box, however, was tightly shut. Zexion Drew would not be solving its mystery, not today. He could have sworn the box was laughing at him.

"I need a box of books moved from my house to the library," he explained quietly. Cloud raised an eyebrow.

"Isn't your house _next door to _the library?" Zexion blushed, stammered, and couldn't come up with a reply. "Ok, sorry. I'll be happy to do it," said Cloud. "Just fill out the form." Once again hoisting the laughing mystery box, Cloud disappeared into the back of the store.

The form was simple- how many boxes, how far, when, that sort of thing. Zexion nibbled the end of the pencil, and decided not to fill it out just yet. He had to stretch his time, so he'd have a chance to check out Cloud, er, the store, after all. After a full minute, he'd managed to write his name. When he was sure no one was watching, he peeked over the counter to the back area of Strife Delivery Services. Much to his disappointment, the place had nothing to see. Cloud was very organized, with boxes piled on shelves, neatly labeled with names and phone numbers, and very cleanly swept floors. Zexion wasn't going to find anything in this place. He sighed, and went back to filling out his little form. Just when he'd resigned himself to a dismally failed mission, he was startled into a yell by the loud clank of the door opening.

"Oh, sorry I scared you. I've been telling him to replace that thing. Is he here?" The unfortunately monikered Leon Leonhart had just entered the store, and was looking at Zexion expectantly. Zexion supposed that the man was rather good looking, by objective standards, but he simply just wasn't his type. Zexion Drew was a gentleman, and he preferred blondes.

"Uh, yes, he is. Um. Do you want me to ring the bell?" he asked awkwardly.

"No, it's fine, I'll just go back." Leon walked straight past him and through the nearby door with the aggressive "EMPLOYEES ONLY" sign. Zexion blinked. That door was just… _open_? Any old person could walk through? He probably shouldn't, though, since it said employees only. But then, how far would the great detectives of literature have gotten if they were stuck obeying signs all the time? Zexion looked around to make sure no one was watching him, and he shoved his now complete form into a pocket and tip-toed over to the door, pushing it open a tiny crack. When no immediately bad consequences dropped down on him, he gained a smidgeon of confidence, and stepped inside. Now, he had successfully infiltrated Strife Delivery Services.

Zexion slid in between the first two racks, pulled out his journal, and quickly began jotting down names and phone numbers, though he didn't recognize any of them. They must all people in neighboring towns, he deduced. He made a note- _Cloud's clientele must take him out of town pretty frequently. _If Cloud traveled a lot, then there was a distinct possibility that his fiancée's murder had been an outside-of-town job. That was a possibility that Zexion didn't especially want to consider, since it would make his job in solving the mystery about a million times more difficult. So, he shelved the outside-job theory for closer examination once he'd thoroughly investigated all of the locals.

He was moving into a second row when he heard Cloud's voice. Apparently, he and Leon were having some kind of heated conversation. Zexion leaned close to hear better.

"-just think it's in pretty bad taste," Cloud was saying.

"Well, how long's it going to take?" Leon's voice was less clear, which probably meant that he was facing away from where Zexion was hiding.

"Leon, the doctor called to tell me he's coming in with her cause of death _today._ Now is _really _not the time to be talking about this."

"Cloud-"

"No." Zexion heard footsteps, which meant that Cloud had ended the conversation and was walking away. Walking away, straight towards where Zexion was standing. He desperately looked around for a hiding place, but Cloud kept his store much too neat for that. But if he stayed where he was, he was going to be fou-

"Zexion?" Cloud was standing right in front of him, out of nowhere, and staring down at him, his face crinkled oh-so-slightly into confusion. "Oh. Did you come find me to give me your form?" he asked. Zexion silently thanked whatever God was watching that day, for speaking through Cloud and giving him an explanation for being where he was right then, besides 'eavesdropping like a crazy person.'

"Yes. Here. Thank you," he said, maybe too quickly, pulling his crumpled form out of his pocket and handing it over. Cloud once again raised an eyebrow, but he accepted it silently. "Uh, goodbye. Thank you," Zexion said again, and he shuffled his way back to the door. Behind him, he could hear Leon trying to talk to Cloud again, though he couldn't make out the words. It would be too risky to go back, now. He'd gotten more information than he expected to- for example, he now knew that Dr. Hicks had found a cause of death. But how would he find out what it was, before the rest of the town did? Cloud had mentioned that the doctor would be coming by today. He would have to find an excuse to hang around the store.

After fifteen minutes of cardboard box shopping, Zexion realized he couldn't stall anymore without drawing suspicion, or, more likely and more unsettling, derision. He'd have to keep an eye out for the doctor outside. With a final glimpse around the store, he slunk back out into the harsh daylight.

Fortune smiled on Zexion that day, because he only had to wait two and a half hours for Dr. Hicks to show up at Strife Delivery Services. Zexion had parked himself on a bench nearby with a good book and some sweet tea, a drink he normally wouldn't touch because it made his teeth hurt, but he thought a drink would go well with the book-and-sunshine image he was trying to create. After all, he never read outside, and he didn't want people to notice him. He was simply an observer.

Zexion observed as Dr. Vexen Hicks walked across the road and opened the shop's door. He could hear the bell all the way across the street, and was ashamed to admit that it still scared him a little, even from a distance. But now that the doctor was inside, he would have to get closer. Zexion glanced around to make sure he wasn't being watched- no one was ever walking around downtown, but still, detectives always had to make sure they weren't being watched- and then got up and walked quickly back over to the store, hopefully for the last time that day. He was getting a sunburn.

"Hi, Dr. Hicks. Thanks for coming to tell me in person." Zexion could hear Cloud's voice easily from outside- something about his voice projected. The doctor's voice, however, was higher pitched and raspy, and Zexion had to struggle to hear it.

"Well, I'm sorry to say, but the news I have is not good news," the doctor said. Or, he might have sneezed. Zexion was about 80% sure he was talking, though.

"What do you mean?" Cloud said emotionlessly. If Zexion hadn't just heard him raise his voice to Leon, he would have suspected the man felt no emotions at all. Wait, was Leon still inside? Zexion hazarded a glance in the window. Yes, Leon was there. He loitered where he was, expertly viewing the unfolding scene with his peripherals, the same way he watched grubby little kids in his library to make sure they wouldn't tear up his precious books and spill high-fructose corn syrup goo-juice on them.

"I wasn't able to perform a full autopsy," Dr. Hicks explained.

"What? Why?" That was Leon's voice, now, even deeper than Cloud's. Zexion saw Cloud glare at Leon, presumably for interfering.

"You see…" the doctor said quietly, and Zexion leaned closer, straining his ears.

"I couldn't perform a full autopsy, because Aerith was pregnant."

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Of course she was.

Review plz? :D


	4. Grocery Shopping

"Aerith was pregnant." Zexion gasped, and inhaled some dust, which resulted in a coughing fit, which triggered his asthma. He pulled out his inhaler and breathed in deeply all as he dove away from the window and out of sight. Hopefully they hadn't seen him. That inhaler diving maneuver was pretty cool, though. A long moment passed of total silence, before it was broken by:

"What?" That was Leon's voice- apparently, Cloud was in too much shock to speak, and Dr. Hicks was too uncomfortable to keep the conversation going. Once his breathing was regular again, Zexion leaned into a rather awkward position so he could peek into the window. If anyone came by on the street and asked, he was doing his stretches. A reasonable excuse, right?

"That's not possible," Cloud finally said, well, whispered was more like it. Maybe even wheezed. He sounded like he was having more difficulty breathing than asthmatic Zexion was. "I mean, we never- uh, I mean, are you sure?"

"One hundred percent, Mr. Strife. You can't fake being pregnant," Dr. Hicks said drily. His tone sobered immediately. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"I'm sorry, too," said Leon, but there was more than a little hostility in his voice. Zexion considered this point curiously, and made a mental note to make a real note of it as soon as he had space to move.

"So… we'll never know how she died?" Cloud asked.

"I can still find out, but the process will take a little longer, since I need to be more careful. I came by to see if you wanted me to continue with the autopsy, knowing what you do now."

"…Yeah. Please do," Cloud said softly, and he began to sniffle. Out of the corner of his eye, Zexion noticed that no one moved to comfort him, not even Leon, his supposed best friend. He frowned, and made another mental note to make a real note. His journal was heavy against his side- he could probably get it out without alerting anyone to his presence. With balance practiced from bored days filled with experimenting with the library's yoga books, Zexion shifted all of his weight to one leg and extended the other, carefully sliding his hand into his pocket to pull out the little book. Unfortunately, when he triumphantly yanked the thing out of its holding place, he miscalculated the new shift in movement, and went tumbling ungracefully into the filthy street.

Zexion jumped to his feet and primly walked away, dusting off his sweater vest as he went. He clutched the journal close to him with his other hand. No one heard, he told himself. And besides, he was perfectly within his rights, doing yoga in the streets. It was, after all, a _public _road. How dare they judge him! _How dare they._

The righteous indignation wrapped itself around him and made him heady with, well, he wasn't quite sure what this feeling was. Probably hunger, he decided- he needed to buy a new box of cornflakes. Zexion had a very specific food regimen each day, which began in the morning with cornflakes and milk, _separately, _thankyouverymuch, and then continued to a homemade spinach, mustard (spicy), and turkey sandwich at lunchtime, one boiled egg for a mid-afternoon snack, and salad and chicken for dinner, the chicken of course grilled. Sometimes when he was feeling edgy, he put flax seeds in the salad, for the Omega 3 acids he'd read about, but for the most part, Zexion Drew was firmly in the "if it ain't broke, don't fix it" camp of thinking, and since his diet hadn't killed him yet, he figured it was working. He hated sweets.

Fortunately, the grocery store was right on the road that would take him back to his house and his library, so he decided to stop and buy his cornflakes on the way home. Unfortunately, everyone else in town seemed to have decided to go to the grocery store this fine day, as well. Right outside the door, reaching for the handle and a blessed reprieve from his worsening sunburn, Zexion was unhappily bowled over by a bouncing ball of youthful energy- that is, one Sora Nichols, skipping and happily singing at the top of his lungs about some platypus in a park, or something.

"Ugh. I really wish he wouldn't do that all the way to the store." Zexion peeked up from his prone position on the painfully hot concrete, and all but gasped in surprise. Staring down at him was his least favorite person. His nemesis. _Riku Spears, city kid. _Riku either didn't sense the animosity or didn't care- after all, Zexion was probably invisible to him, just like the rest of the town- and shoved a flier into the poor suffering librarian's face.

"You seen this dog?" At the top of the page, the flier said LOST DOG, well, shouted really, uncomfortably loudly for his tastes. Under the abrasive title was a picture of the most hideous dog Zexion had ever seen in his short life. The foul creature had a stumpy face, stumpy legs, stumpy everything, really, and the picture wasn't doing much to improve the pathetically bad genetic hand it had been dealt. Its mouth was open and its tongue was out, its face was covered in drool, and on top of all that, the thing looked like it might actually have a lazy eye _and_ cataracts. If Zexion ever did find this animal, he'd probably have to thank it- after that picture, everything else in the world looked just a little bit more beautiful.

"No, I haven't," he said, noticing that underneath the picture said GOOFY - IF SEEN, TELL SORA! No phone number was necessary, of course, since everyone in the town knew each other. Wait, that thing's name was Goofy? In spite of himself, Zexion had to smile a little bit. "Appropriate name."

"I know, right? But, Sora offered to pay me five dollars if I put up signs for him, so here I am." Zexion struggled his way back to his feet, noticing that Riku didn't move a single muscle to help him, instead opting to just stand there and let his hair blow in the wind. He also had the indecency to ignore the glare that Zexion shot him as he dusted off his sweater vest for the second time that day. With an indignant huff, Zexion spun on his heel and went into the grocery store.

The store was pretty small- they didn't have any large chains in their town, but their local grocer had everything that anyone could need. The aisles had to be smaller than normal to fit everything, so the shopping carts were smaller than normal too. Zexion thought they and other items in miniature were adorable, not that he would ever admit it. But today he didn't need a cart, since he was just getting cornflakes. With purpose, he set off towards the cereal aisle. The cornflakes were on the second-to-bottom shelf, the bottom shelf of course reserved for the sugary cereals, where the kids would see them. Zexion tucked two boxes under his arm, and set off towards the checkout.

On the way, he turned a corner and crashed into a terrifying, spindling scarecrow of a man. Axel del Fuego. When he ran into the taller man, he stumbled into his cart, and sent its contents spilling across the floor of the aisle. Zexion eeped and grabbed his cornflakes, then pulled himself up to apologize. Unfortunately, by this time Axel had pulled himself back up to his full height as well, at least an entire head taller than Zexion, and was staring at him down the bridge of his nose. He quaked in his loafers. Axel was a hulking terror, deeply tanned skin punctuated by vibrant red hair and dark tattoos. And his eyes, oh, those eyes- exotic eyes, in a bright acid green, slanted upwards, and right now narrowed irritably directly at Zexion. Axel del Fuego truly had a demonic look about him. He certainly _looked _like a murderer, and of course that would need to be taken into account with the other evidence.

"Ah, I'm sorry," Zexion whimpered, shrinking down even further as Axel leaned over him. "Can I help you pick everything up?"

"No habla lo inglese," Axel snarled. "Queso no bono."

"I'm sorry!" Zexion cried, and he quickly began gathering up all of Axel's shopping choices and dropping them back into the cart. Everything seemed rather ordinary- Axel shopped for everyone out at the mansion, so it was much more food than would be needed for one person, but that was to be expected. Zexion dumped all of the cereal and vegetables and meat and condiments and everything back into the cart while Axel just stood and watched him, until there was only one item left, a little bottle. He reached out and grabbed it, and peeked at the label as he was putting it into the cart. Self-warming lube. _For her pleasure. _Zexion's eyes widened and his face broke out into a mighty blush.

"Ah, is this yours too?" he squeaked, holding it out. Axel grabbed it, looked at it, shrugged, and tossed it into the cart with the other things. Zexion was so embarrassed he thought he might die. Now might be a good time to mention that poor Zexion Drew was a virgin. Well, when you've been hung up on one guy for as long as he'd been, what do you expect? If he had friends or family, they probably would be telling him to get over it, you're 25 for chrissakes, go out and get laid already, but he didn't have friends or family, except of course for his Great-Aunt Maleficent who was completely senile, so it looked like for the foreseeable future, it was just Zexion and his hand tonight.

Effectively shamed, Zexion slunk over to the checkout, purchased his cornflakes, and set off for the library, thankfully without incident. He rushed into the cool darkness gratefully, and plopped down at his desk, ready to reanalyze the day's findings. With detective pen in hand, he cracked open his journal.

_Still October 13__th__._

_Aerith was pregnant. News a shock to everyone, including her fiancée. He began to say "but we never"- could he possibly have never copulated with Aerith? And if so, who was the baby's father? Or is Dr. Hicks lying for his own nefarious ends? Further investigation is needed._

_Sora Nichols's dog has gone missing. Ugliest dog I've ever seen. Probably insignificant. Riku Spears still a prime suspect, due to abrasive manner and unusual clothing style. Saw Axel del Fuego in grocery store looking sinister and purchasing sexual aid. Whether this information is significant or not, still remains to be seen._

_First day of investigations productive. Zexion Drew, over and out._

_

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_

LOL. What do you think?


	5. Into the Woods

Updated just in time for Zemyx Day! :D HAPPY ZEMYX DAY! Now with smut. Because you can't have a real Zemyx Day without smut, amirite?

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Like usual, at about 8:45 Zexion Drew made himself some tea. He sipped his tea and completed four or five Sudoku puzzles in the comfortable chair in his personal library, which had once been a garage. Outside the garage-_cum_-library window he had an excellent view of the public library, to make sure no juvenile delinquents were trying anything funny while he was off the clock. Yes, Zexion's evening routine was absolutely perfect.

After he was finished with his Earl Grey and puzzles, Zexion took a shower (for he always showered twice a day, for optimum cleanliness), applied aloe to his burns (a deviation from the usual routine, but necessary), changed into his comfortable and practical navy blue pajamas, the ones Great-Aunt Maleficent bought him because she thought they matched his hair (his hair was actually purple, but hey, she was beyond old), and climbed into bed. Usually at this time, he would spend anywhere from five to fifteen minutes drifting peacefully off to sleep, visions of reference books dancing in his head.

Tonight, however, Zexion couldn't sleep. Not even the tap-dancing dictionaries were enough to get him to doze off. He tossed and turned unpleasantly, working up enough of a sweat that he worried he may need to take three showers tomorrow instead of just two. After about four hours, he decided to look at the situation analytically. Somewhere, at some point, he had read advice about not being able to sleep: _If you're worried about something, and there's something you can do about it now, just get up and do it._ Well, what was he worried about?

The mystery, of course. An entire day of investigations and he still hadn't found out who had murdered Aerith Gainsborough. On top of that, he didn't even have any leads, besides that Aerith may have been carrying an illegitimate child. No, he needed to redouble his efforts. And what better time for redoubling than the dead of night?

The Woodses, the wealthiest family in town, lived in an old mansion appropriately located out in the woods. Their family home, being much too large for a family of three, also housed the business headquarters for the lucrative Bag-o-Stuff, Inc. Their family certainly had the resources to carry out a hit job on someone in town. Zexion could use the cover of darkness to snoop around the grounds and look for clues. Yes, that was an excellent idea.

Tonight, Zexion Drew was going sleuthing.

Every good sleuther needs a pair of sleuthing shoes, and Zexion was no exception. After a few minutes of frantic digging, he pulled from the back of his closet a well-loved pair of old tennis shoes, a souvenir from his days as the star of his high school Track & Field team. Hurdles were his specialty. Zexion had quite an impressive jump, if he did say so himself.

The sneakers of course fit perfectly. Zexion had not grown an inch in the past seven years, and was still a size eight. Lesser men would be self-conscious about having such a small shoe size, but not Zexion, who maintained that his slender feet gave him increased balance and speed, and didn't mind them at all so long as no one paid too much attention to them. Also hiding in the back of the closet was the pair of pocket binoculars he'd used while bird-watching as a young Boy Scout- good thing he'd held onto them all these years. He decided to stay in his pajamas, since they were an appropriate color to blend with the cool night, and besides, he liked to be comfy while he sleuthed. He tucked the binoculars into his pocket, along with his inhaler of course, separated his house key from the others on his key ring so that it wouldn't jangle while he walked, crept out his door, locked it safely, and set off towards the forest on the edge of town.

The walk took about thirty minutes, his sleuthing shoes perfectly silent. He ran into no one while leaving town, and no one in the forest, either. He walked right in the middle of the road that wound through the woods, being that he was moderately afraid of creepy crawlies, but when he was approaching the mansion, he decided it would be better if he took to the trees for cover. He tucked his pajama pants into his socks and slipped into the forest, unseen.

Zexion sleuthed through the forest for another five minutes or so before coming into view of the mansion itself. He stayed at the edge of the trees and pulled out his binoculars to do a quick sweep of the grounds. Just as he was about to declare that the coast was clear, he was halted by a shock of bright red.

_What is Axel del Fuego doing awake at this hour? _Zexion wondered, fear of bugs forgotten as he lay down on his stomach in the grass and leaf-decay, focused on staying out of sight while watching the man's movements. He chose his spot carefully, nestled underneath a shady tree and next to some bushes, where he wouldn't be seen unless the seeker was standing right on top of him. Unfortunately, Axel del Fuego didn't seem to be doing anything terribly exciting, just moving a few pieces of equipment from one place to another. But still, who would do work at this horrible hour? Zexion chose to ignore the fact that he himself was doing work at this horrible hour, and not even getting paid for it. He propped himself up on his elbows so he could watch without too much effort. His eyes narrowed.

"Mind if I join you?" Zexion startled, and whipped his head around.

"Demyx? What are you doing here?" Demyx smiled, and put a finger to his lips.

"Shh. We're _sneakin'_, remember?" As he said the words, Demyx flopped noisily down on his stomach next to Zexion, burying himself in the leaves. Zexion, of course, did not at all mind that Demyx may blow his cover, since Axel del Fuego was out of sight for the time being, and Demyx smelled quite nice, really, and the way he forgot to pronounce the g on sneaking was very charming.

"Why are you here?" He hated to ask, but there really wasn't much of a reason for Demyx Dolor to be right here, right now. Not even in his wildest dreams.

"I came to see you. Y'know, at the library," Demyx whispered. "But you were leavin', so I followed you."

"You followed me?" Zexion asked stupidly.

"Yep. Gimme those." Demyx snatched Zexion's binoculars away, his hand brushing against Zexion's face as he did so, and peered intently out at the mansion. For a long while, the two men lay side by side, watching in silence. Zexion never bothered to take back his binoculars- Demyx seemed to be enjoying them, and that was enough. The heat from his friend's body was warming him up, and he secretly wished that Demyx would touch him again.

"Hey. Check it out." Demyx motioned to hand over the binoculars. Zexion reached out a hand, and realized that there was nothing there. He sighed irritably. But when he turned to ask about it, instead of the binoculars he was expecting, Demyx was waiting to plant a quick kiss on his lips. Then Demyx pulled back, a big smile on his face, as if he thought himself very clever indeed. Zexion himself was too shocked to respond. His eyelids fluttered rapidly the way they did when he was about to have an asthma attack.

"Demyx?" The sexy blonde pushed his finger against Zexion's lips this time, grinned playfully, then shut him up with another kiss. His long fingers bunched up in the back of Zexion's thick purple hair, and Zexion was suddenly painfully aware that he hadn't had a haircut in almost six months. Demyx didn't seem to mind, though, and took advantage of the distraction to push his tongue into Zexion's mouth, his free hand already fiddling with the waistband to his pants. After several heartbeats, the kiss broke.

"Uh- uh- isn't this a little fast?" Zexion gasped. Demyx answered by rolling him over onto his back and climbing on top, too busy nibbling on a tasty earlobe to speak. Zexion tried to resist, but apparently, Demyx knew all the right buttons to press. He was putty, slimy squishy silky smooshy putty, in the more experienced man's hands.

"Mmm. Axel," Demyx murmured, nuzzling his neck. Zexion frowned, but took several moments to get his voice. For some reason, his throat felt very thick.

"What?"

"_Axel_," Demyx moaned insistently. _What!? _Zexion moved to push the other man off of him, and found that nothing was there.

He was awakened by a very real Axel del Fuego slamming a very real Roxas Woods up against a very real tree.

Zexion squeaked in horror and curled up on himself, trying desperately to make himself invisible. He was panting, both hot and bothered from his dream and terrified at being found, but he couldn't make a break for it- the two sex-birds were barely three trees away. Wait. _Axel del Fuego _and _Roxas Woods_?

"_Axel_." Roxas, and it was unmistakably Roxas Woods, was still moaning Axel's name. Zexion could see him from his awkward hiding place, blonde head tossed back, bare legs wrapped around Axel's waist. Axel's surprisingly muscular chest was also bare, tanned skin glistening with sweat in the moonlight, muttering what were surely profanities in Spanish. Zexion thanked whatever gods may be watching that he couldn't see any more than that. At around this time, he noticed an object that had been discarded close to his head- a half-empty bottle of self-warming lube. This must have been going on for _hours._ How long had he been asleep!?

Zexion hazarded enough movement to plug up his ears, not out of courage but pure instinct for self-preservation. Sure he'd never had sex, but he had some idea of what it might be like, intellectually, and the sounds Roxas Woods was making were quite frankly the most terrifying sounds he'd ever heard. The raucous howls were a demented and unnatural combination of the Cloaked Schemer in heat, the Cloaked Schemer at mealtime, and the Cloaked Schemer throwing up on Hayner Bodeen. Even worse than Roxas's frantic mewling were Axel's growls, like racecar spinning off track, or a lawnmower with a big chunk of wood stuck in the blades. Zexion couldn't last like this. He would have to crawl away- he had to chance a run for it. It was the only way!

Unfortunately, he never worked up the nerve to run away, and was stuck listening to the two mens' rabid, animalistic love-making almost until the break of dawn. When they finally left, Zexion was a gibbering, whimpering mess, too scarred to even care that a ladybug was crawling down his face. The only motivation he had to get home was to make a note of this sordid affair in his sleuthing journal, and even that wasn't enough of a pull, not until the dew started making him shiver.

Even then, Zexion lay trembling, thinking not about Axel and Roxas, but about his dream. None of his dreams had gone that far before- they always stopped at sweet nothings and gentle kisses. The frightening visions were most certainly brought on by the heated antics not three trees away, but even though they could be easily explained, now that he was awake, he was scared. He'd been scared in the dream, too. Was _that_ really what he wanted?

_Horse before the cart, Zexion Drew. He has to look at you twice first,_ Zexion thought sadly.

And so, he dragged his soaked and tired body upright, and started the long walk home.

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Oooh, a sordid affair. These chapters are getting progressively longer, by no intentional planning of mine- good for you guys, right? :D

Review plz?


	6. Clue

The following morning, Zexion Drew didn't open the library, mostly because he hadn't gotten home until well past six, and simply wasn't able to wake up in time. No, he slept well past the opening time of 9:00. And then when he finally did wake up, it really couldn't be called waking up at all, since his eyes were swollen almost all the way shut.

After some violent hacking and many a feeble sneeze, Zexion finally managed to get himself out of bed and into a bathrobe, and he hobbled miserably into his personal library. A quick look at his personal copy of _The Physician's Complete Home Medical Guide_ allowed him to self-diagnose himself with the common cold. Zexion wasn't exactly in the habit of getting sick, but the book recommended lots of rest and fluids, and that seemed like a good idea. So, he re-shelved his textbook and crawled back to his bed with a glass of water and went back to sleep.

An hour later he awoke again, this time with a splitting headache. A quick re-consult of _The Physician's Complete Home Medical Guide_ told him to take pain killers for headache, so, he took three Tylenol, and then went back to bed. This time, though, he couldn't sleep, so he dragged all his blankets into the living room so he could sit on the couch and watch his favorite movie.

_Clue._

Zexion loved _Clue_. It had been his favorite movie ever since he was a little boy. The intrigue, the suspense, the hilarity- and oh, Mr. Green. Zexion wanted to _be_ Mr. Green, even despite his being a fictional character. An undercover FBI agent who keeps everyone hoodwinked up until the very end, when he dramatically reveals his true identity and solves the mystery in one fell swoop. Yes, the only thing about Mr. Green that wasn't absolutely perfect was that he was only _pretending _to be homosexual. The first time Zexion saw the ending, he'd cried openly. (Come to think of it, that was probably about when he realized he was gay.) Now, at the age of 25, he'd grown out of bawling like an angry baby when Mr. Green mentioned his wife, but he still wept on the inside every single time, not that he'd ever admit it.

Today, even through his illness, Zexion laughed and cheered and gasped and shrieked at all the appropriate parts. He never emoted in real life as much as he did while watching _Clue_. His body was still exhausted, however, so he finally managed to doze off. Zexion lay snuggled on his couch, snoring peacefully, for he was forced to breathe through his mouth because of his stuffed-up nose. Yes, Zexion stayed lost in happy dreams of mysteries and pretty blondes, male of course, all the way up until he was rudely awakened by the movie's poor singing telegram girl getting shot in the head.

BANG.

Zexion screamed like a banshee and tried to jump out of bed. Unfortunately, he wasn't actually in bed, so he misjudged the distance, and his foot hit his coffee table rather hard. With a shout of pain, he whirled around and tried to stop himself by reaching out to grab a side table. His hand connected with his water glass with enough force to shatter it into a million pieces, sending one particularly vicious shard directly through the middle of his palm.

Blood was everywhere. Zexion had never seen so much blood in his entire life. Once the screaming and the tears had died down a bit, he hurried into the kitchen and shoved a dish towel onto the wound. Probably not the most hygienic of solutions, but he needed something to stop the bleeding while he consulted _The Physician's Complete Home Medical Guide._

Thirty minutes later, Zexion Drew was seated in the waiting room of Dr. Hicks's local clinic.

Xigbar was there too, flipping casually through a copy of _People _magazine. The dish towel was getting pretty disgusting, and Zexion was feeling very light-headed. He was worried about getting blood on the waiting room furniture and being forced to pay extra for it. The library health insurance he had wasn't very good.

"So, dude. What're you in here for?" Between the profuse bleeding and sniffles, Zexion was too dizzy to hear or process what Xigbar was asking , and when he finally tried to answer, his throat was too sore and shriveled to manage complete sentences.

"Cut my hand," he finally rasped out. "Cold." He fell silent a long moment before realizing that hey, Xigbar had tried to talk to him- maybe he'd think it was rude if Zexion didn't ask him a question too, or something. "You?"

"Eye socket check-up," Xigbar said cheerfully. Yeah, he shouldn't have asked.

Zexion was a little disturbed by how long he had to wait for his appointment. The town only had so many people, after all- even if every single whiny kid in a five mile radius had some sort of illness or ailment, giving each of them some antibiotics or an ace bandage should only take about twenty minutes. _Us Weekly _was even beginning to look quite tempting. Zexion's good hand was just reaching out to discover just what Lloyd had done to Sheena when the bang of an opening door rescued him from certain tabloid hell.

"Thank you, Larxene," Dr. Hicks was saying, as he ushered the young blonde woman out into the waiting room.

"That's _Ms. Carlyle _to you, kiddo," she sniffed haughtily, clutching her pocketbook with both hands.

"Yes, Ms. Carlyle," the doctor said absently. "I'll see you next week." Larxene nodded stiffly and quit the room, chin held high. Dr. Hicks pulled out his clipboard and reading glasses, and squinted at the next name on his list. "Zexion Drew?"

"Yes," Zexion squawked. His voice really couldn't come back soon enough- this squawking was very undignified. Not to mention that the filthy, blood-soaked dish towel was beginning to smell.

"Ah. Right this way, please." Vexen too seemed to catch a good whiff of the festering towel, and was eyeing the make-shift bandage as if it were a crime against all medical sciences. Zexion shuffled along behind him, through a few doors and past a few doors, until he was deposited rather unceremoniously on a tiny bench.

The clinic looked very much like one would expect a clinic to look. The walls were painted a stark and unsettling white, punctuated only by a few informative posters telling patients when a fever should be considered dangerous, or the names of the different sections of the spine. All along one wall ran a crisp laminate countertop with a deep double sink, with cabinets above and below, surely stocked with all sorts of medical goodies. Deep in the recesses of his sickness-spattered brain, the tiny voice of Zexion's inner detective cried out _Look for clues! Look for clues! _But by this point Zexion was so ill that he could barely keep his eyes open, let alone solve a murder mystery.

"So, Zexion," began Dr. Hicks, snapping his plastic gloves on in a vaguely creepy manner, "Let me look at that hand." Zexion obediently held out his wounded hand, but left it up to the doctor to peel off the crusty towel. The scene underneath was not nearly as bad as Zexion remembered it to be. His overactive imagination had reduced his arm to an oozing, horrifying stump, but really, all that was there was a smart little gash in the center of his palm.

"I fell. Cut myself on glass," Zexion explained hoarsely. Vexen nodded along, humming to himself as he cleaned up the blood in sharp, painful strokes. Though the method was none too gentle, it was certainly efficient, and within minutes his hand was as good as new, save for the hole in the middle of it.

"This isn't bad at all. You won't even need stitches." The doctor bandaged up his hand in even less time than it had taken to clean it. Zexion was beginning to feel rather dumb for overreacting, and his body sneezed pathetically, as if to say it agreed with him.

"A-choo!"

"Is that a cold?" Vexen asked, without looking up. Zexion nodded. "Well, it doesn't seem that bad either- just take some Dayquil and rest a lot." That was precisely what _The Physician's Complete Home Medical Guide _had told him to do! Zexion usually avoided going to the doctor at all costs, due in part to his terrible health insurance and in part to his nature as a stingy bastard, as well as his hatred of all things putrid and sickly. Unfortunately, he couldn't stand the sight of blood.

_You got me this time, Medical Establishment, _Zexion seethed.

"Ok, you're done. We'll mail you the bill. Sign here. Here's the insurance form." Zexion did as he was told, clutching his forms in one hand like a lost child on his first day of middle school, and the doctor ushered him out into the hall. The end of the hallway had two doors. One clearly had to lead to the waiting room, and the other led to God knows where. Zexion turned for help, but he'd been abandoned- Dr. Hicks had already disappeared back into the check-up room. He turned back. The doors seemed to be laughing at him.

"_One of us always tells the truth, and the other always tells lies," _the first door sneered at him.

"_What? No we don't!" _

"_Ha! Another lie!" _

Zexion shook his tragically sleep-deprived head to clear it, and just reached for the knob on the door closest to him. Just as he was about to turn it, he was startled out of his choice by a shout.

"NO!" Dr. Hicks was running down the hallway towards him, eyes wide, panting as if someone had been shot. He barely managed to compose himself when he reached Zexion. "No. The waiting room is through here." The doctor opened the door for him and all but shoved him outside, slamming the clinic door in his face.

Zexion blinked. _That _was weird- even his drugged-up, sickly self could see that. What was behind that other door? Was Dr. Hicks selling bootleg organs on the black market? Maybe doing medical research on innocent children and kittens? Harboring alien life? Or maybe just having a torrid affair with someone unseemly, during clinic hours? He desperately wanted to find out, but he was much too sick and tired to investigate right now. He'd have to come back.

The walk back to his house wasn't terribly long, but the heat still managed to addle Zexion's sick brain. He staggered miserably along the sidewalk like a man walking to his grave, and was content to do so, all until a certain Volvo station wagon pulled up next to him on the road.

"Hey, Zexy! Zexion! Hey, you ok?" Zexion heard the voice, and was too scared to turn around. But he did, and there was Demyx Dolor, leaning out one side of his old car, shiny blue eyes big and full of concern. Zexion had never been more embarrassed in his life. He wanted to sink into the sidewalk and die.

"Ah, I'm fine," he said, or at least tried to. What actually happened was that he broke down into a decidedly unsexy coughing fit, unsuccessfully trying to use his wounded hand to block all of the germs he was decidedly spewing everywhere.

"Oh! Oh, are you ok? Oh- come on, get in the car!" With the engine still running, Demyx hopped out, and somehow managed to scoop Zexion up and deposit him in the passenger seat before he really knew what was going on. Now Demyx was back in the driver's seat, driving them away somewhere. Zexion had a vague feeling that he'd been kidnapped. "_Why_ were you out walkin' around?" his friend was asking.

"I just went to the doctor," Zexion answered easily. The coughing fit had apparently freed up his throat somewhat, and his voice sounded almost normal again. He was grateful for that, at least.

"Oh, you sound _terrible_," Demyx sighed. Ok, apparently not. "Ok, I'll take you home, then. You live next to the library, right? You want me to make you soup or somethin'?" Somewhere deep in its cockles, Zexion's heart was all a-flutter. Demyx Dolor wanted to make him soup. _Demyx Dolor _wanted to make _him _soup. But did he really want Demyx around him when he was all sick and unwashed like this? And what if he got vomity? No- no, it was much too risky. It could wait until he was healthy again. Like his dream.

Zexion shivered.

"Here we are," Demyx said softly. "I'll help you out." Sure enough, Demyx opened Zexion's side of the car for him, and even walked him up to the door. They might as well have been coming home from a date, if it weren't for Zexion's bleary red eyes and runny nose.

"Thanks," he said, afraid to meet Demyx's eyes because he looked so terrible, and Demyx was so handsome.

"Hey, no problem." Demyx was smiling, Zexion could hear it. "Are you sure you don't want me to come inside and make you dinner?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Had Zexion been looking at Demyx's face, he would have seen it fall ever so slightly, smile dropping with an anxious nibble on his bottom lip that betrayed disappointment. Unfortunately, he was not looking at Demyx's face, so he missed it.

"Ok. Well, sleep a lot. And here's my number if you need anythin'." Demyx shoved a tiny piece of paper into Zexion's hand, and hurried back to his car and drove away. Were Zexion paying attention to that sort of thing, he would have seen a tiny blush creep up over Demyx's cheeks and nose.

Unfortunately, he was not paying attention to that sort of thing, so he missed it.

* * *

GASP. Could our hero's tragic, unrequited love be... somewhat requited? And will he ever get his revenge on the medical establishment? Tune in next time to find out!

Sorry for not updating for almost a month. I was on vacation. :D Review please! Reviews are to my writing like sunlight and water are to daisies. And you don't want the daisies to _die_, do you? ... Yeah, that made no sense.

Anyway. Roses are red, violets are blue, I like to read them, so please revieeeew :)


	7. Notary Public

Zexion Drew was, of course, a man of many talents, not the least of which was being a notary public. He took his notarization duties very seriously, and even had a nice little sign in the library, "NOTARY PUBLIC AVAILABLE." He was the only notary in the tiny village, and though his sort-of legal services were very rarely needed, each time they were was a cause for celebration.

Today, none other than Mr. Xemnas Woods had arrived in the library with a copy of his will. Zexion tried very hard not to reveal what he'd discovered about the younger Woods less than a week prior. Even so, he could feel a hot blush creeping up his cheeks while he focused very, very hard on anything but his customer's eyes.

"I need you to notarize this," Xemnas said, in a very deep and controlled voice. No one in the town knew how old he was, but he had to be at least 60. His hair was _white_, for God's sake.

"All right, it'll only take a minute," Zexion said, and he put on his reading glasses to get a better look at the document. He first raised an eyebrow at the date- the will was dated several years earlier. Well, that was odd. Unable to deny his insatiable curiosity, he quickly skimmed down the rest of the first page. What he saw surprised him, and set his boy-detectivin' wheels in motion.

"You're leaving money to Aerith Gainsborough?" he asked. Xemnas Woods never struck him as much the sentimental type, the kind of person who leaves things to dead people and whatnot, and he had no idea why Xemnas Woods, the wealthiest man in town, would want to leave money to some orphan. The actual dollar amount was impossible to make out, since it was shrouded in legalese and assets and percentages. But she was the very first person listed, so it must have been good.

"Let me see that," Xemnas snapped, eyes wide, suddenly furious. He snatched it back and scanned the first page. His face was ablaze with some emotion that Zexion had never seen there before. He sat meekly and waited. Then Xemnas sighed, and opened his briefcase.

"I pulled out the wrong version," he muttered, glaring, and produced a new will. "Now notarize this one." Zexion, too frightened to look again, simply pulled out his notary stamp.

"D-do you swear that everything in this document is the truth and nothing but the truth so help you God?" he stammered. Not exactly the correct oath, but thankfully Xemnas was too irritated to care. He just nodded, Zexion stamped, and then Xemnas quit the scene with a disdainful flip of his long white hair.

And that was that.

It was, by far, the least satisfying notarization he'd ever done. Usually he was left feeling a bit chuffed, you know, look at me, I provided a valuable service to my community. Running the library was a valuable service too, he supposed, but since people these days didn't bother to _read _anything, running about with their me-pods and their rap music, well, he wasn't sure how much enlightening _anyone _could do under those tragic sorts of circumstances.

He'd collected some valuable information today, though. Xemnas Woods had planned to leave something to Aerith Gainsborough in his will. He quickly pulled out his detective journal.

_October 20._

_Had interesting visitor in library today. Xemnas Woods came to have a new will notarized, accidentally gave me unedited copy. The first name on the list? Aerith Gainsborough._

_What connection could Xemnas Woods have with the late Aerith Gainsborough? He was very upset when I asked why her name was in his will. But maybe it was a set-up, a red herring. Maybe the real murderer and Xemnas Woods are in cahoots, and produced this will to me because they're trying to throw me off the trail?_

Zexion paused writing and tapped his pen thoughtfully on his lip. He wouldn't put it past the people of this town. They were pretty conniving.

But then, another idea occurred to him.

_Or worse- what if Xemnas Woods was the father of the victim's unborn child? What if __**he **__is Aerith's, as they say, 'baby-daddy'?_

The more he thought about his theory, the more it made sense. Xemnas certainly had the resources to be attractive to a young girl. Maybe she'd tricked him into impregnating her just for his money? Or blackmailed him into staying quiet, until Xemnas arranged to have her kept quiet for good? Or maybe they planned to runaway to Mexico together, have a civilian wedding, and live the rest of their lives in peace and comfort, away from the judging eyes of the very people of the very town that tried to deny their happiness?

Just as he was developing his theory that Xemnas Woods was really an undercover FBI agent and Aerith Gainsborough was in the Witness Protection Program, the bell chimed indicating the door had been opened. The library rarely got any visitors, except of course when Demyx brought his students, so two in one day was quite an achievement for the town's only cultural center. Unfortunately, this particular visitor was no one that Zexion wanted to see, well, ever.

Seifer Almasy, deputy sheriff, strode easily across the reception area, tossing a ripe red apple in one hand. He had a rather unpleasant swagger about him, and he certainly had never read a book with no pictures in it. Zexion Drew didn't especially want him in his library. He quickly snapped his detective journal shut and tucked it into its secret drawer, snuggled comfortably together with the manuscript to his novel.

"Zexion, Zexion, Zexion," Seifer began, voice dripping with condescension. He took a large, juicy bite out of the apple, and waited to chew and swallow before he continued. "Always causing trouble." He smirked, an unpleasant little smirk.

"Excuse me, sir?" Zexion asked stiffly.

"Cloud Strife. He came to the police station to complain that you were digging through his garbage," Seifer drawled.

"What!?" he cried indignantly. Actually, he really had gone digging through Cloud Strife's garbage, looking for clues of course. He'd unfortunately been distracted by a rather large collection of male pornography, apparently Aerith's, that Cloud had been throwing away, several volumes of which he may or may not have stolen and hidden under his bed at home for later perusal.

"Yeah. He wouldn't tell us _what _you took, though. Seemed kinda embarrassed. So he's not pressing charges. Just, he wanted us to come tell you, don't steal from his trash, _please_," he smirked.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Zexion grumbled, but a hot blush was already consuming his face. He was an absolutely terrible liar. An awful handicap when you're a freelance detective.

"So, yeah. That's it. Just watch your step. And, uh, have fun doing whatever it is you do in here all day." Seifer took another disgustingly large bite out of the apple, spewing bits of skin all over Zexion's immaculate carpet. He tossed a wave over his shoulder and strode arrogantly back out the door. Zexion shot a glare after him, then pulled his journal back out.

_Still October 20._

_Law enforcement has taken note of my freelance activities. I shall have to tread carefully from now on. Could Xemnas and/or the murderer have influenced the local police, as well?_

He paused. As far as he knew, Roxas Woods and Axel del Fuego hadn't seen him spying on the manor. So, this garbage incident was the first time anyone had noticed his activities. Who knew that the people in this town had so many secrets to hide? Heated back-room meetings, a secret forest rendezvous, off-limits doctor closets, dead people in wills, gay porn in the garbage. He tapped the pen against his lip once more, and then added one final note to his journal entry.

_Seifer Almasy is a douche.

* * *

_

Sorry the update took so long. I was on vacation, and then I had- GASP!- writer's block. Looks like little Zexion Drew is just as crazy as usual, however. And, sorry for the lack of Zemyx. More later, I promise! ;)

Review please? :D


	8. Better Choices

Big thank yous to all of my reviewers! This chapter is for my FABULOUS BETA, who is bedridden with an indeterminate groty abdominal infection. FEEL BETTER, FABULOUS BETA! Kick that indeterminate groty abdominal infection right in the nads!

* * *

"_This is a tough case, Dom. We might not come out of this one alive. I won't think less of you if you back out now… I want you to know that." Zach Tuesday turned away, hoping that his young partner wouldn't notice the pain in his eyes._

"_Zach," Dom whispered."I could never leave you behind. We made a promise, remember?" His hand reached out to brush Zach's long bangs out of his face, and for once, Zach didn't resist him. Too much of himself had gotten caught up in this case, the long hours, the stress, that finally he just wanted to end it all. He could no longer resist Dom's advances. The younger man's soft fingers drifted across Zach's smooth skin and muscled jaw, ending at his full yet masculine lips._

_Zach thought back, back to that day so many years ago when his parents and baby sister had been gunned down by the Masked Killer. The day that had spurned him to dedicate his life to outing the murderer. The day that had begun his hardened life as a freelance detective._

"_Thanks, Dom," he sighed, but the brief moment of vulnerability was overshadowed by grim resolve. "Now let's go catch this sonofabitch." _

Zexion Drew spent standard office hours sitting in his library like a good librarian for the rest of the week, hesitant to try any more detective work now that the police were on to him. He didn't want to risk getting local law enforcement involved, not when he'd already found out so much. If Xigbar caught wind of what he was finding, he'd almost certainly pull Zexion off the case, and that was too much to stand this late in the game.

The fact that Zexion hadn't found, well, anything of substance had no bearing on his paranoia.

As much as he hated government services, he had to be somewhat grateful that libraries were public institutions, since he certainly wouldn't be staying open if he had to try to sell things. No one had been in the library since Seifer, so Zexion had spent his hours alternately dusting, reviewing his notes, and working on his novel. The novel was slow-going because it was, of course, entirely hand-written. Zexion Drew didn't believe in word processors.

Despite the physical effort invested, however, Zexion still didn't have a title for his masterwork. At first he'd just wanted to go for simplicity; a simple _Zach Tuesday _would do. Or maybe _Zach Tuesday: Freelance Detective. _Or, if he wanted to aim for a series, maybe _Introducing Zach Tuesday _or _Zach Tuesday and the Case of the Masked Killer. _That last one was a bit unwieldy, though, and Zexion didn't like long book titles.

The Cloaked Schemer was sitting in his lap, purring contentedly, not out of any objective happiness but because she probably wanted to be fed. And, of course, in her eyes, the best way to get someone to feed her was to shed hair all over them.

"It's not time to eat yet," he told her sternly. "You know better than that." Zexion spent so little time with people that he'd taken to speaking to his cat as if she were an actual human child. In response to the sudden attention, the Schemer meowed affectionately and began to knead his thighs with her front claws.

"Ow! Stop it." He tried to push the cat off of him, but instead of hopping down to the floor, she hopped up onto the front table. Zexion frowned. "Hey, you know you're not allowed up there. C'mon, Schemer, make a better choice." The cat blinked at him slowly. With a sigh, Zexion reached towards the spray bottle that he used to mist his plants.

Just then, a cockroach fell from the ceiling and landed in his hair.

Few things did Zexion Drew loathe more completely than insects. Freakish number of legs? Skeleton on the outside? General creepy ugliness? _Air bladders_? No, thank you. Later on, psychiatrists would theorize that his hatred of crawlies stemmed from some sort of latent childhood trauma, but for now, Zexion defended himself in the only way he knew how.

"AAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!! EW! EW!" If a polite exhortation to 'make a better choice' hadn't quite done the trick in getting the Schemer off of the table, well, all of the screaming and thrashing worked perfectly. With a hiss and a spit she disappeared into the stacks, leaving Zexion to battle the roach all by himself. A few hard shakes and the groty monster was tossed onto the table, where Zexion proceeded to beat it to death with the transcript of his novel. A shudder passed through his body with each sickening crunch. Normally he would treat his life's work with more respect, but all semblance of sense was forgotten in hysterical panic as he thwacked the life out of the tiny bug.

Sometime during the epic conflict, the bell clanked, indicating that someone had entered the library. Zexion didn't even notice, so caught up was he in the throes of battle. Not until after he was convinced that the very last morbid twitch had been beaten out of the offending roach did he hear the shuffling of footsteps and look up in surprise.

Demyx Dolor was staring back at him with wide eyes.

"Uh," said Zexion.

"Uh," said Demyx. Zexion was quite a sight, to be sure- he was sweaty and flushed and his normally perfect hair was wildly out of place. Even his sweater vest was askew. Demyx looked positively terrified.

"I really hate roaches," he said quickly, just to offer an explanation.

"Yeah, I can see that," Demyx pointed. Zexion glanced down, and saw that the remains of the flattened cockroach were still clinging tenaciously to the underside of his book. With a hard swallow, he pulled open one of his desk drawers and shoved his novel inside, making a mental note to clean it up later.

A long, awkward silence passed, as Zexion pawed his hair back flat and Demyx became very interested in a nearby houseplant. Once Zexion had more or less composed himself, the two turned to each other to finally speak, before turning away, then turning back, each unsure of who was going to start.

"Uh, hi," said Demyx finally. "So, you're feeling better?"

"Yeah. Uh, hi to you too," said Zexion. That was when he noticed someone was missing. Well, four someones, in fact. "Where are the kids?"

"Oh, it's just me today," Demyx replied, and a faint blush crept over his cheeks. Zexion did notice it this time, but had no idea what it meant. Maybe his air conditioning was broken? Demyx was still talking, an awkward rattle that didn't suit him at all. "It's just, y'know, I gave you my number and all, and you never called, so I wanted to make sure you were ok, and, uh, yeah. You are, so, uh, that's good, I guess."

"Yeah, I'm ok," Zexion said. Another silence.

"So, uh. Read any good books lately?" Demyx squeaked. He was acting rather strange. But if there was anything Zexion could talk about for hours on end to the point of monotony no matter the circumstances, it was books. So he clung to the lifeline Demyx had tossed him, and hauled for all he was worth.

After about twenty minutes of blathering about his thoughts on the relative merits of _Great Expectations _and _David Copperfield, _even Zexion Drew was able to tell that Demyx was getting bored. His eyes were drifting and he stifled a yawn, even as he put in the effort to nod along to what Zexion was saying. Zexion bit his lip nervously, and allowed his mind to wander as his mouth went on autopilot.

Why had Demyx Dolor come here, all by himself? Was he really worried about Zexion's health? Could the police have put him up to it? No, no- that was too crazy a thought, even for Zexion Drew. Or maybe- just maybe- maybe he actually liked to read, and wanted to check out a book? The library hadn't actually circulated a book in God knows how long, and Zexion was embarrassed to admit even to himself that the idea that Demyx wanted a book had never even occurred to him.

"Uh, what about you? Do you read?" What a stupid question. He was a teacher, of course he could read. But Demyx didn't seem to think the question was silly at all, and he eagerly hopped into the conversation.

"Not for a while but uh, I was wondering if you could maybe suggest something good to me?" he asked, at a speed and cadence that was not his own, almost as if he'd practiced asking. But that would be silly, right?

"Well, do you want to read either of those books I just mentioned?" Zexion asked, his heart beating a little faster just at the thought of _Demyx Dolor _taking a book from _his _library. That was almost like making it to first base, in librarian terms.

"Yeah, sure. The, uh, the Copper-whatever one sounded good," Demyx said, blushing beet red. Zexion didn't even care that he'd botched the title. With a smile in his heart and a spring in his step, he shuffled off towards the D shelf, loafers squeaking pleasantly, narrowly missing a nice present the Cloaked Schemer had vomited up for him after he'd scared her. He found _David Copperfield _immediately- years of arranging and rearranging just for the sake of arranging had left him knowing exactly where every book in the library was- and he skipped back up to the front desk.

Unfortunately, in his hurry to hide the evidence of his cockroach smashing escapade, he'd forgotten that his investigative journal was still sitting out on his desk. Right out on his desk, where anyone could see it or pick it up.

Just as Demyx Dolor had done, before cracking it open and reading the inside.

* * *

DUN DUN DUN. DUN DUN. DUN.

A bug actually did fall on my head on the bus today. It was really gross. REVIEW PLZ?


	9. Partners

Oh dear, it has been eternity since I updated this. SORRY GUYS! I promise I'll make it up to you, somehow. Yeah.

This chapter is, again, for my wonderfultastic beta, and also my buddy Pantharya, who drew me fanart of this story for my birthday! The link is in my profile, y'all should check it out. :D Go read his fic 'John's Day Off'- it's a game crossover with lots of laffs.

This chapter is also dedicated (since apparently we're going crazy with the dedications) to my buddy LiteraryMirage, who had a bad day. Go read her fic 'A Father's Pride' if you are also in need of a good LOL.

AND NOW, ONWARDS TO THE BOYS:

* * *

"Oh my _God _you're _right_! Seifer Almasy _is _a douche!"

Zexion Drew was not entirely sure what was happening. One moment, he'd been looking for _David Copperfield _among his comforting bookshelves. Time had stopped completely the moment he'd seen Demyx man-handling his precious journal. And without time even bothering to start up again, Demyx had somehow managed to flop himself down in one of Zexion's comfy-but-not-_too_-comfy library chairs, flipping through the pages and laughing uproariously at Zexion's own commentary on their friends and neighbors.

No one anywhere ever had ever accused Zexion Drew of having a sense of humor. As such, the only possible conclusion was that Demyx was laughing _at _him and his observations. And Zexion took laughter personally. A little _too_ personally.

"Give it back," he snarled, and he dove for the book. Unfortunately, Demyx was a little too quick for him, and also had longer arms. Zexion missed his target by a wide berth and ended up ass-up in a plant. Demyx didn't notice, and kept right on reading and giggling.

"Cloud had a gay porn collection!?" he squawked. "Never would've pegged him as a sissy boy." Flip flip flip. "Aerith was pregnant!? Zexy, is that true?"

"Yes," Zexion muttered. "According to the doctor who was determining her cause of death, that is, and I figure he would know better than most." He dusted some dirt off of his sweater vest and stood to his full and less than terrifying height, ready to tell Demyx Dolor off, no matter how adorable he might have been curled up in a chair reading Zexion's own beloved writings like that, because really, they weren't ready to be published yet and it was mostly just notes and-

"Zexy," Demyx said quietly. Zexion looked down at him. Demyx was staring up at him with an expression not unlike adoration.

"Zexy, this is brilliant." Zexion's heart skipped a beat. No one, _no one, _besides himself of course, had ever described him as brilliant. And this wasn't just anyone, this was _Demyx Dolor, _the love of his life, sitting in _his _chair in _his _library, fondling his journal oh-so-gently, face flushed from laughter, smiling up at Zexion through chopped bangs, mullet resting beautifully on his shoulders and oh God, if Zexion could only touch it. _Demyx Dolor _thought he was brilliant. Angels were singing and bells were ringing. Were God to strike him down for some ill deed right then and there, Zexion could die happy, smoke curling off of his charred remains with as much joy as smoke could produce.

At some point in his reverie, Zexion realized that Demyx was waiting for a response.

"Uh, yeah," he said, with a bit of a squeak. He cleared his throat to give himself his best manly-man voice. "I mean, uh, yeah."

"This must have taken you ages," Demyx said in awe. "You started the day of the funeral? That was three weeks ago!" He lowered his voice to a whisper as if people may be listening, which was entirely an impossibility due to the general level of foot traffic in Zexion's library, not to mention that he checked the place regularly for wires. "Do you really think she was murdered?" he whispered, eyes wide.

"Well," Zexion said, straightening a little bit. "I can't be sure just yet, but there are plenty of people who would've had motives."

"I saw that Mr. Woods had her in his will. That's so odd," Demyx murmured. "I mean, they weren't related or anything, were they?" Zexion blinked. The idea had not even occurred to him. He grabbed his journalin' pen.

"That's a good thought. Can I see that really quick?" he asked excitedly. Demyx handed over the journal. Zexion flipped ahead to a blank page, yanked off the pen cap with his teeth, and started writing. This was his element. Zexion Drew was in the zone.

_October 24._

_Could Xemnas Woods and Aerith Gainsborough have been related by blood? Will check into the possibility._

Satisfied, he re-capped his pen, and with only the slightest hesitation he handed the journal back to Demyx. He had, of course, referred to the journal as _brilliant, _so Zexion supposed that that entitled him to a couple peeks. Demyx, however, seemed to feel a bit differently.

"Hey," he said, pouting in an irresistibly cute fashion that made Zexion want to touch his mullet all over again. "You didn't write that it was my idea." The idea of crediting other people for help in detectiving had never even occurred to Zexion, and he looked at Demyx as if he were mildly insane. "Like this," Demyx grinned, and he took the pen back.

He uncapped it, he lowered it to the page. All of this passed in slow motion for Zexion Drew, who could do nothing to stop the defiling of his beloved work. Being a teacher, of course, Demyx had to write so much on so many crappy student papers that his handwriting had devolved into a sort of sub-legible scrawl that didn't even stay in the lines. He handed the journal back to Zexion with a big, happy smile, and Zexion himself could only gasp in horror at what had been done. Demyx had added, in an outside-of-the-lines wobbly mess with a big, dramatic arrow:

**DEMYX'S IDEA **

"What did you just do!?" Zexion wailed, in a rather untoward display of emotion. The hysteria bubbled up from a deep well of feeling that he reserved only for works of literature. And also his journals.

"Well, it _was_ my idea," Demyx laughed, as if he'd just done something funny like paint the Schemer's tail or burn a couch or something. But there were no burning couches to be had- only a terrifying scar on the face of Zexion's second most beloved possession.

"Get out," Zexion seethed.

"Ha, you should see your face right now!"

"I said _get out._" Zexion snatched his journal to his chest and further out of Demyx Dolor's grabby little hands, huffing with fury. Demyx had stopped giggling now, and his facial expression showed that he was oh so slowly realizing that Zexion was serious.

"Wait," he said slowly. "Hold on. Are you _serious_?" Zexion just glared. "Zexy, come on. It's a journal. They're meant to be written in." Zexion sniffed and turned away. "You actually want me to leave?" Zexion didn't respond at all. Demyx let out a withering sigh, the sigh of someone quite used to dealing with tantrums. "Fine. I just wanted to see if you were ok. You can keep the book." He stood and turned to leave without looking back.

Zexion's mind was in turmoil. On the one hand, someone had viciously and carelessly invaded his precious journal-space, and left a violent mark behind. On the other hand, this was _Demyx Dolor. _Demyx Dolor, in whom Zexion had fallen irrevocably in love upon first glance. Demyx Dolor, whose mere voice was enough to make Zexion's weary heart flutter in a decidedly nonsensical fashion. Demyx Dolor, who appeared in his dreams and made him stir in places he'd forgotten could stir. _Demyx Dolor._

"Wait," Zexion choked. "Stay. I'm sorry. I was joking." It was probably quite obvious to everyone involved that he hadn't been, but Demyx seemed to buy the excuse, because he smiled. Zexion liked it when Demyx smiled, and he offered a goofy smile back. Oh boy, did he have it bad.

"Sorry I wrote in your journal," Demyx grinned, in a way that showed he really wasn't sorry at all. "But I gotta go anyway. I'm really glad you're feeling better, Zexy." That made Zexion smile harder. All this smiling was making his muscles strain, but for Demyx Dolor, he could deal.

"Thanks," he said back. In hindsight he probably should have added a 'for checking on me' or some such that would make what he said actually make sense, but Demyx seemed to understand ok without it.

"No prob," he said cheerfully. "I'll see ya tomorrow, ok?" Zexion blinked.

"Uh, why? What's tomorrow? Are the kids coming?" He'd have to prep the Schemer psychologically if they were.

"Oh, no- but I noticed that you haven't investigated Marluxia McCoy yet, and I may or may not be deciding to order flowers for Parent-Teacher Night this year," Demyx grinned. "You know, show that I care about their input. Seems like a good idea, right?" He turned to finally leave, and it may have been just Zexion's sex-deprived imagination, but there seemed to be a bit of swing in his hips.

"_Hasta mañana, _partner," Demyx said sweetly. And then he was gone.

_Partner._

If Zexion had been in love before, now, well. Now he was beyond words. He hugged his journal to his chest and sniffed it to see if it still clung to some of Demyx's intoxicating musk. Demyx Dolor was God's gift to Zexion Drew, and no way was he going to give him up.

He skipped around the library in a decidedly un-Drewly fashion for the entire rest of the day.

* * *

I have now fulfilled my dream of using the phrase "intoxicating musk" in a fanfic chapter. Combine that with "paragon of American manhood" from my fic Erased, and clearly I am the most non-cliche writer ever. Yeah, that's it. xD

I have two jobs now, so my fanfic time is slightly diminished, but NE'ER FEAR! ZEXION DREW LIVES. That is all.

Reviews plz? :)


	10. Flower Power

WOO. Update in less than a week, to make up for the fact that I didn't update for two months. And it's an extra long chapter, too! See? I do love you guys. :D

* * *

One day later, Zexion Drew was pacing his library, waiting for Demyx Dolor to come pick him up. He'd considered wearing his nicest bowtie, but decided that was just too flashy, so he tried to dress casual in his usual sweater vest and khakis. Unfortunately, just as he was about to let anxiety get the better of him and set off for the school himself, the little bell over the door rang, and a customer came in. Normally that would've thrilled him, but not this particular customer, oh no.

Riku Spears.

He was clutching a stack of fliers, just like before. He walked straight up to the counter like he owned the place. Damn city kids.

"Hi. Sora still can't find his dog, so we're putting up more fliers. Is there anywhere in here I could put one? You know, for foot traffic…" He paused, blinked, and looked around. The slightest of frowns passed his lips. It was quite obvious that no one ever came into the library- the place was pristine. But even so, Zexion had to stick to his anti-soliciting guns.

"I can't put _fliers _up in a _library,_" he sniffed haughtily, as if Riku should have known better, which he absolutely should have. "You can use the telephone pole outside. But you'll have to get your own stapler." He picked up the library's stapler off the desk and stuffed it into a drawer. Riku stared at him incredulously.

"Are you serious?" Zexion said nothing, and simply stared him down- or rather, up- he wasn't very tall. After a long moment, Riku rolled his eyes and turned to leave, narrowly missing Demyx Dolor as he came bounding through the entrance.

"Hi, Riku," said Demyx cheerfully.

"Hi. You seen Sora's dog?"

"Nope!" Demyx chirped. Riku muttered something most definitely vulgar under his breath, but left before Zexion could rake him over the no-profanity policy. Damn.

Demyx bounced right up to the front desk, where he stopped abruptly, and a long and awkward silence commenced. This was it, after all. The two of them were going into the field together. Once they walked out that door, there was no turning back.

"Hello, Demyx. How was your day?" Zexion asked stiffly.

"Good," answered Demyx, with equal formality. "How was yours?"

"Good," said Zexion. He shuffled his feet. Luckily for both of them, Demyx was rather impatient, and also particularly immune to awkward moments.

"Shall we, then?" he grinned. "My show's on at eight, so we have to be back by then."

"Your show?" Maybe he should have asked 'what is your show?' or 'you have a show?' or something else full-sentencey like that, but like usual, Demyx understood the abridged version, and happily took to the job of hauling the conversation along.

"_The Golden Girls,_" Demyx gushed. "You ever seen it? I mean, it was on in the 80s, but it's still so good now, I watch it every day even though I've seen every episode a hundred times." And so, he regaled Zexion with tales of his favorite T.V. show, and the conversation flowed along easily. Marluxia McCoy lived and operated out of an old house on the outskirts of town, and Demyx hadn't brought his car, so they had a nice long walk to get to their destination. You know, like boyfriend and boyfriend. Zexion's heart was all a-flutter.

"-and then Dorothy says, 'You know why that is, Blanche? Because you're over fifty'-"

He hadn't really talked to Demyx Dolor that much. Listened to him talk to other people, yes, admired him from afar, yes- but he'd never much had the courage to actually talk to him himself about anything other than library business. He was amazed at how easy it was to talk to him. He didn't feel uncomfortable at all. And he was fascinated by all of Demyx's little speech quirks, the way he giggled at his own jokes, his intense and passionate love for a show that frankly sounded terrible. He just had so much _life _in him.

"-and Rose says, 'I mean, he sounds very nice, for a drifting ex-con,'" Demyx finished. "Oh, look! We're here!" And they were, indeed.

Marluxia McCoy's shop, if you could call it a shop, was also his house, and also Larxene Carlyle's house- it was a building of many purposes. Besides his vibrant and almost certainly not-natural pink hair, the man gave off no indicators of being a lover of plants- he had to have some sort of green thumb, though, since the flowers he grew to sell were _everywhere_. Outside, inside, in-between, on tables and in windows, all different colors and quite a few varieties Zexion suspected he'd created himself.

Demyx and Zexion meekly approached the gaudy and flowerful nightmare, passing a dilapidated garage on the way. Some weird creaky noises were coming out of it, and since the door was swaying on its hinges, it was obvious that it hadn't housed a vehicle in quite some time.

"D'you think that's where Saïx stays when he's here?" Demyx whispered. Zexion internally kicked himself for not making the observation first. His new partner was a natural talent.

"What kind of arrangement do you want?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Oh, I don't know. Classy but funky. Something that says 'Hey parents, I'm cool!' without making it look like I have bad taste, you know?" Demyx paused to smile sheepishly. "I don't really know anything about flowers."

"Yeah, me neither," Zexion sighed. "I guess that means we'll have lots to talk about with them."

"We?" Demyx asked, confused. Then he understood. "Wait, no! You can't come in with me! It'll be too suspicious." He pulled Zexion down into sort of a football huddle, as if a football huddle in the yard wasn't suspicious, either. "You need to stay outside and observe! Find a place where you can see inside and take notes."

"Are you joking!? You can't go in there by yourself!"

"There's no other way, Zexy," Demyx said solemnly, and Zexion had to begrudgingly accept that he was right. No matter how hard he wished otherwise, at this point in time, he and Demyx Dolor shopping together was certain to turn heads. Safer for one to stay outside. And since Demyx was the one making the order, he was the one who had to go in.

"Ok. I'll be watching. Just be sure to signal if it gets rough in there and you need help."

"Gotcha," Demyx nodded. He flashed one of his beautiful pearly-white smiles. "Wish me luck!" Before Zexion could even answer, he turned and made a beeline for the entrance. He was going in.

"Good luck," Zexion whispered, and he immediately started looking for a hiding place near a window. Giant pots of flowers were strewn around everywhere, and for once, he was in a situation where his purple hair wouldn't stick out like a holiday nightmare. He chose an assortment of some flower he couldn't identify and crouched down behind it, journal in hand, with a perfect view into one of the house's smaller windows. Demyx was already inside.

"Hello? Is anyone here?" he asked, and Zexion was surprised that he could hear him speaking quite clearly. All of the windows were propped open, probably so the insects could get inside to pollinate the flowers. He made a quick note.

"Coming, dearie," a low voice warbled, a voice Zexion instantly recognized, the only voice he knew of that could make a warble sound manly. Marluxia McCoy. The entire old house seemed to creak with dismay as he went leaping down the stairs to where Demyx was waiting. All Zexion caught was a wild flash of pink before Marluxia left his line of vision. He risked a scoot to one side to get a better view.

"Hi Marluxia," Demyx said. Zexion saw him stiffen. As friendly and personable as Demyx Dolor was, he was an absolutely terrible liar. Zexion watched him glance around the windows, as if trying to find his hiding spot.

_C'mon, Demyx, _he thought forcefully. He'd already been approached by the police for 'stalking'- he wasn't sure what would happen if Marluxia McCoy found him hiding among his flower beds. And this time, there would be no gay porn collection as a consolation prize. Oh God, what if Demyx found out about his stolen gay porn collection!?

"-wanted to get some flowers for Parent Teacher Night," Demyx was finishing, at an unnatural pace and with a distinct waver in his voice. He looked around at all the windows again, like a trapped mouse.

"Ok, what kind?" Marluxia drawled, completely uninterested.

"Uh… the flowery kind," Demyx said lamely. "Just some flowers." Marluxia raised an eyebrow, and Demyx quailed. Zexion quailed a little bit, too, by association. Who knew that someone with pink hair could be so intimidating?

"Just pick some out," he said. "Yell when you're done." He turned to leave. Well, that had all gone reasonably well, but they didn't have any _information. _They needed to investigate- that was why they were here. And Demyx wouldn't have the guts to sneak into the rest of the house like Zexion had. No, this was all backwards- they should have sent in the professional- he would have to sweep in and rescue Demyx, just like in his fantasy-dreams. But just as he was preparing to mobilize himself, he came to a rather startling revelation.

Demyx was gone.

Zexion scooted back and forth, peering into the different corners of the room. There was no Demyx to be found. He looked behind himself, too- had Demyx run away? Was he fleeing back to town now? The poor guy couldn't take the pressure. He'd spent one hour as a detective and he'd cracked. Zexion shook his head. He shouldn't have pulled Demyx into this, not this soon-

"HEY. What the hell are you doing!?" A door to the back of the house slammed open, and Demyx came tumbling back into the house, chased by a rather irked Larxene Carlyle brandishing a shotgun.

"I'm so sorry. I thought there was more store," he said, frightened yet mechanical, as if it were a prepared excuse. Which it was. Zexion was a little impressed, in spite of himself. His heart went all a-flutter all over again. Demyx was just so dreamy.

"Of course there's no more store, dumbass!" Larxene snarled. "Honestly, kids these days-"

"Larxene, dear. What have I said about threatening the customers?" Marluxia was back, apparently having heard the commotion. He swept into the store- a sweep was the only way to describe the way he walked.

"Please. I was arranging flowers while you were still in diapers," Larxene huffed, but she lowered the gun. Zexion frowned. Was Larxene being sarcastic? She didn't look a day over thirty, and Marluxia had to be at least that age himself- if she was old enough to have changed his diapers, she was unbelievably well-preserved. He made a note.

"Have the pets been fed yet?" Marluxia asked. _Pets_!? Zexion frantically looked around for dogs. He _hated _dogs. But none had attacked him with their slobber and untoward friendliness yet, so he figured he was reasonably safe.

"I ain't done it," said Larxene.

"Well, could you? I'd ask Saïx, but you know how he is with blood. The food's in the meat freezer-" _meat freezer!?- _"downstairs by the, you know."

"I know where you keep your pet food, Marly," Larxene sniffed.

"I'll take these," Demyx said quickly, pointing to a bouquet apparently at random. It was a little early to pull out, but if Demyx couldn't take the heat, well, it was his first day. He'd get better.

"Ok," said Marluxia, and he swept over to the cash register. "That's twenty dollars." Demyx hurriedly pulled a bill out of his wallet and put in on the counter. "Thank you for your business," he said formally, with a little bow.

"Yeah, you know," Demyx said nervously. "Gotta keep the parents happy." Larxene scoffed.

"_Please. _You want some _real _hardship? Try giving birth." And with that, she disappeared into a door that must have led to the basement. Marluxia disappeared back into the back of the house. Demyx turned and rushed out the door, and Zexion stood to meet him.

"So!?" Demyx asked excitedly. "How did I do!?" _Absolutely wonderfully and I love you, _thought Zexion. But he couldn't give too much positive reinforcement too soon. This wasn't a game, after all.

"We'll talk once we're off the property," Zexion said lowly. Demyx's eyes widened, and he nodded, clutching his huge potted plant a bit closer. The two of them shuffled along down the dirt driveway, back past the shady garage, and were almost to the main road when they ran into the very last person Zexion wanted to see.

Saïx. The local murderer himself. They said he'd only gotten out of a life sentence by pleading guilty and allowing the family to have the pieces of the victim's body back. And then he'd escaped anyway by digging out of the complex with only his teeth and fingernails. It was rumored that under the light of the full moon, you could see the blood on his hands.

"Uh," said Demyx. Zexion stayed silent.

Saïx stared at both of them, one at a time, his sleek yellow eyes lingering only momentarily on each face. Then he appeared to lose interest, took one step to the side, and walked around them, continuing on to the house. Both men swallowed hard and looked at each other.

"He had yellow eyes," Demyx whispered. "So help me God, _yellow eyes."_

"It's not safe," Zexion said out loud. His thoughts were racing. What if they'd been found out? "Split up, we're harder to follow that way. We'll reconvene at the library in half an hour." Demyx nodded firmly.

"Got it." Demyx and Zexion set out in completely opposite directions. Zexion went in the direction of town, going past Strife Delivery Services and getting nasty glares from both Cloud and Leon, before crashing into Axel del Fuego and earning himself an angry _si queso nos spaca, _whatever that meant_. _But he sounded angry.

Demyx beat him back to the library by a few minutes, and was loitering outside the locked door. Normally Zexion hated loitering, but since he'd asked Demyx to meet him here, he supposed he'd have to make an exception. He unlocked the door and the two tumbled inside.

"Oh my _God,_" Demyx whispered, even though they were alone. "That was close." He put his plant on the counter. The flowers brightened up the library quite a bit, and Zexion hated it. Libraries weren't _meant _to be bright.

"So, what did we find out today," Zexion said, his tone businesslike. He opened up his journal and began to read aloud. "Saïx might be living in ill-kept garage."

"That was my idea," Demyx grinned. Zexion gave him a don't-you-dare-try-to-write-in-my-journal-again glare and he went quiet. Zexion continued reading, to stop himself from feeling guilty.

"Lots of exotic plants. Is Marluxia breeding them himself?"

"Ooh, I hadn't thought of that."

"Larxene made joke about changing Marluxia's diapers. How old is she really? Will investigate."

"She also mentioned giving birth," Demyx said. "I mean, you don't think she has a _kid _somewhere, do you?" Zexion blinked. He thought giving birth was just one of those things women talked about. The idea that Larxene had had a baby hadn't even occurred to him. He made another quick note in the margin, that read simply:

_LARXENE OFFSPRING Y/N?_

"That was my idea, too," said Demyx.

"And, Marluxia has a meat freezer in his basement, where he keeps his pet food, which is bloody," Zexion finished, tapping his pen thoughtfully on his lip. "There are more questions than answers here. We may have to go back."

"Yeah. And there was nothing at all in their living room. Just guns and dead things. I was good though, wasn't I? Sneakin' in like that?"

"Of course you were."

Blink.

"Guns and dead things!?" Zexion gaped. Why had this not been mentioned sooner!?

"Oh, you know, bear rugs and mounted heads and stuff like that. That old Remington Larxene attacked me with, she pulled it off the wall." The word 'Remington' was entirely foreign to Zexion Drew, but context allowed him to apply it to the gun he'd seen.

"They have a room full of guns and dead animals," Zexion repeated more slowly, trying to take it in.

"They must just like hunting or something," Demyx shrugged. "The gun thing is normal. Everyone around here has at least one. Heck, Xigbar has at least twelve, and those are just his display collection." He glanced over at what Zexion was writing.

_Marluxia and Larxene have a room full of guns and dead animals. According to partner's intel, this is unremarkable, and everyone in this town owns a gun._

"So? Aerith wasn't _shot_," Demyx said. The words didn't reassure him. Zexion Drew did not like guns. They were noisy and messy. Zach Tuesday _never _used a gun- he fought with his fists, like a man. Demyx cocked his head.

"You can't tell me you really didn't know that? You don't know the people in this town very well. Maybe you should get out more," he teased. Zexion huffed and put his journal away.

"Whatever," he said petulantly.

"I'm more freaked out about the pet thing. I mean, that must be one helluva dog, if they're feeding it actual meat. Or maybe they can't afford real dog food? The house and yard were kinda run down," Demyx mused. He yawned and glanced down at his watch, before yelping and jumping to his feet.

"Sorry! Gotta go! The girls are on!" he said hurriedly. "Call me for our next date, ok?" With that, he bolted out the door, leaving Zexion seated and confused, a warm glow bubbling up from the pit of his stomach.

Their next _date. _Demyx Dolor said they'd been on a _date._

Zexion Drew pranced out the door, locking it behind him. _Call me for our next date, ok? _Demyx sang in his mind, though as his imagination worked the memory over, Demyx's clothes mysteriously began to disappear. He hummed to himself rather atonally- Zexion Drew was no musician- as he walked next door to his house.

Only to have his joy come tumbling down with a sickening crash.

While he'd been out, Riku Spears had procured a stapler, and posted MISSING DOG fliers all over his normally pristine front door.

* * *

I was sitting there, trying to think of what Demyx's favorite show would be, and I could TOTALLY see him just loving the Golden Girls, which is also my favorite show. Well, that and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. xD Gold stars to anyone who can name the episode he's acting out for Zexion's benefit! Also, fun trivia: in my first draft of my Zemyx oneshot "Really Bad Clothes," their names were Zexion Zbornak and Demyx Devereaux. LOL.

Tune in for our next installment, where Zexion Drew heads to the police to report this most recent act of hooliganry. Hijinks ensue.

REVIEW PLZ :D If I can't reply, it's not that I love y'all any less- it's the two jobs thing.


	11. Lady Troubles

Zexion Drew was no stranger to filing police complaints. Not too long ago, Hayner Bodeen had all but destroyed the library's beautiful white picket fence demonstrating moves he'd learned at some hooligan 'karate school.' He'd written in several times to petition for a cat leash law to take care of the random cats who were upsetting the Schemer. And, of course, he often spent his Saturdays collecting the license plate numbers of people who rolled through stop signs. It was his duty as a Twilight Town citizen.

Today, however, it was personal. Riku Spears had trespassed on _his _turf. So the following morning, it was with great purpose that Zexion Drew straightened his sweater vest and headed off towards downtown.

The police station itself was a rather small and awkward building, considering what it was, that was situated at the very end of the main road. The place didn't have any sort of identification except a small sign that said 'SHERIFF' and visible bars on some of the windows. Zexion walked right up to the front door and entered without knocking.

The place was empty- there wasn't much crime in Twilight Town. _Except for Aerith Gainsborough's murder, _thought Zexion Drew darkly. He walked up to the desk, where Xigbar Casey was sitting back in his chair, feet propped up, watching daytime soap operas on a small and noisy TV.

"Excuse me," said Zexion. "I-"

"Fill out the form, " Xigbar interrupted, without even looking at him. Zexion had of course reported enough crimes that he was more than familiar with the procedure, but still, the lack of service disturbed him. With a sigh, he pulled the form off of the tray and began describing his complaint.

In true detective fashion, while he was writing, Zexion Drew peeked around the small room. True to Demyx Dolor's prediction, there were, in fact, twelve guns mounted on the main wall, in various shapes and sizes that Zexion couldn't hope to identify. _That's only his display collection, _was what Demyx had said. Zexion shuddered and silently reminded himself not to make an enemy out of Xigbar Casey.

He finished his paperwork and handed it to Xigbar, who, without even looking at it, dropped it on top of a rather hefty pile of papers in a tray marked 'IN.' Zexion was more than a little indignant.

"You're not even going to _read _it!?"

"I will later," Xigbar shrugged. "I'm on break." He went back to watching TV. While he did that, the door banged open. _Another complaint, _thought Zexion. But no, it was just Seifer Almasy.

"Hi there," he said nastily. "Did you get picked up for stealing Cloud's porn again?" Zexion flushed a deep purple, almost in the same family as his hair, but maintained his silence and his dignity. Seifer saw his reaction, and his lips curled upward into a smirk, the kind of expression often found on liars, vagrants, and fathers of illegitimate children.

"_Actually,_" he sniffed, "Riku Spears vandalized my home."

"Wait. Seriously?" Xigbar turned around and called to the back of the building, where the cells were. "Hey! Riku! Did you, uh, vandalize Zexion Drew's house?" The reply came back muffled.

"What!? _I _didn't do that." Xigbar shrugged.

"See? He didn't do it."

Zexion Drew paused. He blinked. He realized, rather more slowly than he probably should have, that not only was Riku Spears _already _in police custody, but also that, more irritatingly, Xigbar was actually going to accept his comments as given fact.

"You're just going to _accept _that?" he cried indignantly. "When I got home last night, I found _these_ stapled all over my front door!" He brandished one of Sora's 'Missing Dog' fliers. Exhibit A. Everyone knew that Riku lived in Sora and Kairi Nichols's basement. Because he was a free-loading burden on polite society.

"Yeah, whatever." Xigbar waved a hand dismissively. "I'm more worried about what _you _were doing out at night. You do realize we've had complaints about you, right?" While Zexion was busy flushing an even deeper purple and hiding behind his bangs, he missed a triumphant cross-room high-five between Xigbar and Seifer.

"Well, what is _he _in here for!?" Zexion squeaked, meaning, of course, Riku Spears. Seifer made a very loud noise through his nose that could only be described as a bitch snort.

"Well, I didn't read too closely," Xigbar said, indicating his overflowing desk with his chin. His eyes narrowed. "Dude, why do you care? God, this isn't a porn thing again, is it? Because seriously, keep it in your pa-"

Zexion did not hear the end of the sentence, because he was too busy storming furiously out onto the street. How _dare _they treat him that way. He stormed all the way to his usual bench, and sat down on it, very stormily. He supposed that it was about time for him to be opening up the library, but the library was his happy place, and he was too angry for it now. Yes, far too angry.

The police were not to be trusted. That he could be certain of, now, though he'd had his suspicions before. If he ever needed back-up, he'd need to circumvent the local jurisdiction somehow. But that wasn't something he needed to worry about now. At least Riku Spears was, however temporarily, off of the streets and not being a menace. That was good news.

Zexion was so deep in thought, so focused on his internal list of people who had wronged him, so looking forward to pulling out his journal and making that list a reality as soon as he calmed down and was back in the safety of his library, that he didn't even notice when another person plopped down on the bench next to him. He didn't notice all the way until said person started talking to him.

"'Ello, there!" said the man, in a very poorly affected British accent. Awful mimicry aside, Zexion recognized the voice immediately as belonging to Luxord, the town's sole homeless person. He remained the town's sole homeless person because he was the only person on the streets who was aggressively unlikeable enough that no one had yet allowed him to take up space in their homes. Which Zexion himself considered much more honest than the Rikus of the world.

"I don't have any change, Luxord," he said shortly.

"Hey! Hey," he said, sounding quite offended, and like he was making quite an effort to do so through the fake accent. "I ain't askin' for nothin'. I'm _respectable_ now." Zexion highly doubted that, but he risked a glance sideways to check.

Luxord did indeed look different than usual. 'Respectable' was a strong word, but he did seem to be rather expensively dressed. Granted, his expensive dress clothes didn't match. He was wearing a garish pin-striped suit, a violently purple silk vest, and gold-toed dress shoes- at least, those were the parts Zexion could identify, since it hurt his eyes to look at him for too long. Topping off the look, such as it was, was a jaunty bowler hat of the type worn by gangsters in old movies. Luxord looked extremely uncomfortable in his impractical pile of layers, sitting out in the sun like he was, but he had an undeniable air of pride about him.

"Oh," said Zexion. "Well, uh. Oh." Finally, he just stood up and walked away, too uncomfortable to speak.

He walked back towards the library. He only had forty-five minutes before it was due to open. Granted, the library was only a five minute walk from downtown, but he liked to be early to things. The early bird catches the worm, and all that. Demyx Dolor had once argued back that the late worm doesn't get eaten, but he was a free spirit of the type that Zexion Drew could never hope to be.

Unfortunately, Zexion was due for all sorts of distractions that morning. For as he was walking, he ran into none other than Kairi Nichols, missing dog owner and harborer of teenaged delinquents. Well, saying that he ran into her was a bit of a stretch. A more accurate version of events would say that his keen and perceptive eyes detected a wild red head of hair through the window of a shop, and once he'd determined that it wasn't Axel del Fuego and that he had no reason to hide, he ducked inside to get his spy on. Unfortunately, he then encountered a small dilemma.

The shop in question was Seventh Heaven, Tifa Lockhart's coffee bar. Zexion did not drink alcohol, nor did he drink fruity designer coffee. He could either stay there and suck it up for the sake of his mystery, or he could turn around and pretend he'd gone in the wrong door. He chose the first option, and immediately regretted it.

"Hi, Zexion," said Tifa, with an eyebrow raised. "Do you even drink coffee?" His job would be much easier if everyone didn't know him already. While she was talking to him, Tifa glanced outside with her eyes narrowed, as if suspicious of the sunlight, or that someone might have followed him. Most curious.

"Yes," he said shortly. "I'd like a small coffee, please. For here." While he spoke, he took tabs of where Kairi Nichols was sitting. She was at a quaint table by the window, chatting with Naminé Woods. There was an overstuffed armchair nearby, and Zexion decided that that was where he would sit, though he preferred a firmer seat.

"What kind?" Tifa asked blandly. Zexion stared back at her.

"A small coffee," he repeated, a bit more loudly. "Just black, please."

"No, no- I mean, what _kind._" She pointed to a long, handwritten list on the wall, indicating at least twenty different varieties of coffee. The concept of different coffee beans was entirely new to Zexion, though in the back of his mind, it suddenly dawned on him why there was an entire row of coffee at the grocery store.

"Uh," he said lamely. A man more experienced in social situations than he might have asked what the barista recommended. Instead, he picked a kind that was easiest for him to pronounce. Tifa nodded, poured him his coffee, and took his money. He moved to his overstuffed armchair, hunched over for prime eavesdropping.

"-so glad we could get together like this," Kairi Nichols was saying amiably. "I almost never see you anymore!"

"Yes," said Naminé, more quietly. "It's nice to see you." Zexion mentally ran through what he knew about the two women, which was, of course, not much at all. They were both perfectly ordinary, except that Naminé had married into a wealthy family. Neither of them had any apparent motive to murder Aerith Gainsborough. But of course, television dramas had taught him that the least suspicious suspects were often the most dangerous. And he wanted to know why Riku Spears was in jail.

"So, how's your husband?" Kairi continued. "I never see him, either."

"He's fine," said Naminé. "How's your little family?"

"What!? How did-" Kairi stopped herself. "Oh. You mean Riku." She laughed nervously. "Well, he got picked up by the police last night. He fell over a trash can or something. I think that freak Drew guy might have called 911." Zexion correctly identified himself as 'that freak Drew guy,' and felt a swell of anger that Kairi Nichols would assume that he'd done such a thing, notwithstanding that he actually had filed a police complaint against Riku Spears not thirty minutes before. He was admittedly a little disappointed that the boy had been picked up for something as mundane as a noise complaint, and thus would probably be released today. His coffee was cooling in his hands, but he couldn't bring himself to drink it, since it smelled awful.

"Wow. That's something," Naminé drawled. "Any sign of him moving out, ever?" Kairi let out a long, withering sigh.

"Well, you know Sora," she muttered. "'But Kairi, he's my _friend_!' Honestly, sometimes I think he has a screw loose. Don't tell anyone I said that." Naminé snorted.

"I'm just glad _my _husband's not like that," she said, with more than a little smugness in her voice. She must have touched a nerve, because when Kairi responded, her tone was harsh.

"Yeah? Well, at least _my _husband's willing to touch me. He doesn't have to roll around with the _help._" Naminé shot back with something so vulgar that if Zexion had tried to clean it up, it wouldn't have really been a sentence at all. While he was listening to them argue, he completely missed Tifa coming up to his seat.

"Is your coffee ok? You've just been sitting there staring at it," she said. Zexion had a variety of odd behaviors. He did not like being called out on any of them.

"W-what? Oh, of course. It's delicious." As if to prove his point, he took a sip. It was every bit as disgusting as it smelled. He managed to force it down with a grimace. Tifa looked skeptical, but went back to her work. The fight at the table by the window had since escalated. Kairi was in tears.

"God _dammit, _Naminé! Why does it always end up like this!?" she shouted. "You think you're _so damn special _because you married some rich gay guy!"

"For the last time, Roxas is _not _gay!" Naminé screamed back. Zexion knew, from personal and horrifying experience, that Roxas Woods was indeed fond of having sex with other men. He did not, however, think it was a good idea to get involved in this particular argument.

"Keep telling yourself that, you goddamn beard!"

"How do you know _your _husband isn't boning his little basement _friend_?" Zexion was extremely uncomfortable, enough so to risk another mouthful of terrible coffee, just as a distraction. Tifa was very intently cleaning a glistening piece of equipment in the very back of the store. The rest of the shop was empty. Passers-by startled and walked more quickly.

"I think I would _know _if my _husband _was fucking someone other than _me_ in my _own goddamn house_! Not like _someone _I know!"

"You _whore_!"

"I hate you!"

"Fine!" The two women stood up and tried to storm out the door at the exact same moment, resulting in a hilarious yet terrifying crash. After some tangling of limbs, Naminé stuck her chin out and somewhat gracefully allowed Kairi to leave first, before they both stomped off in different directions, heads held high. At last, Seventh Heaven was at peace. Tifa looked about as exhausted as Zexion felt.

"God. This always happens," she muttered. "They didn't even pay for their coffee this time. Oh, hell." She was cleaning up their table, and Zexion could see the cups shaking in her hands, a motion caused and emphasized by her furious trembling. "I'm sorry about that," she said to Zexion, trying to be apologetic through the rage. "You can have another coffee if you want. I wouldn't be able to drink any with that going on, either."

"No, I'm all right," he said quickly. His hatred of designer coffee and coffee shops had been 100% reinforced. Seventh Heaven could be Demyx Dolor detective turf from now on, he decided. He seemed like the type to love coffee shops. He looked over at Tifa. She was tired, and frustrated, and for the first time in his life, Zexion felt an odd sensation stirring inside of him. A sensation that felt disturbingly similar to a random act of kindness.

"Hey," he said quietly. "I, uh. I'll pay for their coffee." Tifa's eyes widened.

"What?" she said incredulously. "Oh, no, you don't have to do that. I mean, it's just coffee. With two flavor shots," she added under her breath.

"No, I insist," Zexion insisted. Maybe it was his abrupt journey into the blackness of human relations, but he really wanted to be nice today. "The store shouldn't have to suffer for its rude customers."

"That's food service," Tifa laughed weakly. She seemed reluctant to take his money. Zexion picked up the check from their table, counted out exact change from his wallet, and left it on the counter. Tifa moved to make him take it back. He shook his head no. For a moment, she looked like she was going to press the issue, but finally, she just smiled.

"You know," she said. "You're not really so bad."

Zexion Drew walked back to the library with an uncharacteristic spring in his step.

* * *

This fic hasn't been updated since mid-November. Uh, oops. Let's see, what have I been doing since then? Well, I went back to college. Silly college, eating my fanficcing time. Oh well, it's updated now. LOL.

Reviews make me happy :D


	12. Birthday

Zexion Drew did not like birthdays.

He'd hated birthdays ever since his parents had refused to get him a Little League Chemistry Set- with real chemicals!- when he turned four. They said he'd burn his eyes out. In retaliation, Zexion had gone outside and poked himself in the eye with a stick. Somehow, it had made sense to an almost-four-year-old. He'd spent his birthday in the hospital, and from then on, he had only negative feelings towards birthdays.

Also, cake gave him a tummy ache, he was allergic to latex balloons, and he hated cleaning up wrapping paper because he always got paper cuts.

Basically, birthdays sucked.

Zexion Drew's birthday was strictly classified information, brought out only for government forms and the like. He did not mention it to anyone. He never threw parties for himself, and he had no friends to throw parties for him. His parents were older, retired, and traveled a lot, and the family didn't talk much. Great-Aunt Maleficent sent him presents, but never anywhere near his actual birthday, since she was senile and didn't know any better.

And so, his 26th year began without any sort of fanfare at all. He woke up, he showered. He drank his coffee and ate his toast. He put on a clean sweater-vest and left for work, secure in the knowledge that no one knew his terrible birthday secret.

He did like when his birthday was placed, though, in the late fall, when the trees were browning and losing their leaves and the town was at its dreariest. The bleak scenery warmed his heart. While nature died, his artistic muse flourished. The library in particular looked wonderful, like something straight out of a Poe story, covered in branches and dead leaves. Unfortunately, the effect was ruined by young delinquent Riku Spears, standing on the front steps, as if he had every right to be there, or something, which he most certainly did not.

"The library's closed," Zexion said flatly, even though the keys were in his hand.

"I was just wondering if I could put up some fliers. Sora's dog is still missing." Riku brandished a stack of the offensive fliers, the very fliers that Zexion had spent entire minutes removing from his library's beautiful front door.

His eye began to twitch.

"I told you _no_ not even _two days _ago. Are you forgetful, or just stupid?" Riku stared at him blankly.

"What!? No you didn't."

"And then you stapled your awful fliers all over my front door."

"No I didn't."

"You were in prison!" Zexion said, his voice rising the tiniest bit with his own frustration. "I _heard _you!" Riku took a step back, away from him, a very concerned expression on his face.

"Ok, dude. You're nuts," he muttered, and he turned and left, thankfully taking the awful fliers away with him. Zexion gritted his teeth, tugged on his bangs, rearranged his sweater-vest, stormed into the library, re-filled the Schemer's water bowl and food dish, all very angrily of course, before pulling out his journal and writing frantically.

_November 1._

_Riku Spears suffering extreme memory loss. Unable to determine if it is medical, or if he's just an idiot. More information necessary._

He paused.

_Worst birthday ever._

Unfortunately, Zexion's birthday was only set to get even worse.

Around ten o'clock, Xaldin Fu came in with his daughter, who immediately ran off to the young adult section. Now, Zexion was all for encouraging reading among the youth. He was not such a big fan of making small talk with their parents.

"Hello, Zexion," said Xaldin.

"Hi."

"You must be getting older, right? Maybe in your thirties?" Zexion's eye twitch was not going to be going away anytime soon.

"I'm twenty-five." No, today was his birthday. His damnable birthday. "Uh, I mean, twenty-six."

"Oh." Xaldin did not apologize, nor did he show any awareness that what he'd said was rude. "Well, still, your parents must be elderly, right? Are you in need of any funeral services?" He asked the last part hopefully, with a wild gleam in his eyes. Zexion was uncomfortable.

"I don't know any dead people. Or dying people." Except maybe Riku Spears, if he tried to put any more fliers on his door."Sorry," he added, because it seemed like the polite thing to do.

"Ah." Xaldin looked extremely disappointed. "Well, here's my card, if you need anyone cremated."

"Here she is, daddy!" Yuffie cheered, running back out from the stacks. Zexion gasped in horror. She was clutching the Schemer under her front legs. The poor cat's back legs dangled impotently, grasping at air. She could not look more unhappy if she tried, a combination of standard cat displeasure and a vaguely confused expression that spoke to being picked up while she was asleep.

"This is the kind of cat I want!" She held the Schemer up proudly.

"Well, we'll talk about that later, dear," said Xaldin.

"Put her down!" Zexion screeched, offended on behalf of his cat's dignity. Both Yuffie and Xaldin turned to look at him, alarmed. He swallowed hard. He could feel his face getting red. "Uh. She doesn't like to be held."

"Ok, mister." Rather than put her down directly, Yuffie shoved the Schemer into Zexion's arms. "Oh hey," she added. "Do you have a drinking fountain?"

"No!" said Xaldin, a little too quickly. "Uh, no, sweetie. We have some nice _bottled _water at home." That seemed to satisfy Yuffie, and she took her father's hand and bounced out the door, pulling him along behind.

They were gone. The Schemer puked all over Zexion's sweater vest.

After cleaning cat vomit out of his clothes, he spent the next few hours rearranging the books in the library. Some of the kids- like that no-good Hayner Bodeen- liked to make the encyclopedias spell dirty words. Once everything was comfortably back in A-Z order, however, and he'd cleaned the windows twice, he had nothing left to do.

Fortunately, the universe granted him another visitor.

The town's mayor, Lexaeus Overfoot, did not often venture out of his office, content to stay up there doing whatever it was he did all day. Zexion wasn't entirely sure. People voted for him because they liked him, mostly because he didn't talk much. In any case, on this particular day, Zexion's increasingly crummy 26th birthday, Lexaeus decided to come into the library.

"Hello, Zexion," he said. He was enormous. He was barely able to fit through the door. Lexaeus stopped right in front of his desk, looming over him like a brick wall. Zexion felt pathetically small in comparison.

"Hi."

"Hello," he said again. "I trust I'll have your support in the upcoming elections?"

"Elections?" Zexion Drew was not big on politics, particularly of the local variety, which as far as he could tell were basically useless.

"You'll vote for me for mayor," Lexaeus said. Zexion stared at him. Did anyone else even _run _for mayor of Twilight Town? Was that a thing that people who weren't Lexaeus Overfoot did?

Lexaeus waited for a long moment for Zexion to answer. He did not. Lexaeus waited another long moment, stretching out the silence, before speaking again.

"I would come out and vote, if I were you." He leaned forward over the desk. "Remember, you're a government employee. You wouldn't want the library's _funding_ to be cut, would you?" he said dangerously. Zexion inhaled a sharp breath.

"Are you _threatening _me!?" he asked indignantly.

"Well, I have to go. Governmental business to attend to." Lexaeus straightened his suspenders. "I'll see you later, Mr. Drew." He walked back out, knocking his shoulder against the door frame as he did so. Zexion stared after him.

This day was bizarre.

Creepy, germophobic funeral directors! Corruption in the highest levels of government! And on top of that, an entire 3.5 people- Riku Spears only counted as half a person- had come to his library, and not a single one had had any interest at all in reading. Zexion wondered why he kept up this business at all. He should have been a dentist, like his mother wanted. There was no fulfillment to be had in book-shepherding.

Every year, every single year, Zexion Drew's birthday came and went without any fanfare at all. He was used to it- that's what he wanted. But he always had a lingering suspicion that he might be missing out on something. Everyone _else _celebrated their birthdays, right? So there must be something to the whole birthday thing, right?

Unfortunately, the work day finished very uneventfully. Just as he was about to give up and go home to watch Clue and eat popcorn, a timid knock sounded on the door. The door creaked its way open.

Demyx Dolor's distinctive hair poked in, followed quickly by the rest of him.

"Oh, hi," he said. "I wasn't sure if you'd still be here, or if, uh, I'd have to go to your house. Uh, wait. What I mean is, uh-"

"Are you ok?"

"Happy Birthday, Zexy!" he cheered. "Uh, Zexion," he corrected himself quickly, before pulling out what he was hiding behind the door.

A tiny birthday cake, with a single, unlit candle.

Zexion stared at it.

"Sorry, I didn't have time to make anything," he said sheepishly. "You know, work and everything. So I had to pick it up at the grocery store. Hope you like chocolate." He placed the tiny cake on Zexion's desk.

"How did you know it was my birthday?" Zexion asked softly.

"I saw it on your driver's license. Oh shoot, that sounds creepy." He blushed. "But uh, yeah. I love birthdays. And I didn't want to not give you a present, but I didn't know what you would like, and who needs more stuff, right? And everyone likes cake." Zexion Drew hated cake. But this was the nicest cake he'd ever seen in his life. He would pretend to like cake for Demyx Dolor.

"Thanks," he said with a smile. "It's the nicest present I've gotten all day." Demyx beamed.

"Well, you know how it works. Make a wish!" He looked at the cake, then he frowned. "Oh, the candle went out- shoot." He fished in his pockets. "My lighter's in my car. Just a sec-"

"It's fine," Zexion laughed, stopping him. "I can make a wish anyway."

He leaned forward, and gently, very gently, he blew out the imaginary flame.

"Nice!" said Demyx. "What did you wish for? Wait, no, don't tell me or it won't come true."

Zexion Drew looked at Demyx's face. He was so handsome, so excited about Zexion's birthday. He was more excited than _Zexion _was about Zexion's birthday. And something clicked. Something that probably should have clicked a while ago.

Zexion suddenly felt profoundly stupid.

He stood up and neatly pushed his chair under his desk. Demyx looked at him questioningly. Zexion marched right around the desk and straight up to where Demyx was standing. He wasn't sure where all of this courage came from, but he knew exactly what he had to do. He stood up tall, and then-

And then, he totally chickened out.

Zexion Drew leaned up and kissed Demyx Dolor on the cheek.

* * *

OH MY GOD I JUST ABOUT DIED OF ADORABLEITIS

Anyway. I may be busy, but I don't forget my fanfics' birthdays. :) HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ZEXION DREW! 12 chapters in 12 months... not too bad, eh? Anyway, sorry, loyal readers, that I've been so busy- but look, they kissed. That buys me a few more weeks, right? RIGHT??

Reviews are love 3


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